There are good reasons to assume Foley is correct. J.P. Morgan’s Joseph B. Nadoll III said last year that Gulfstream would put off a launch of its G450 replacement (code named P42) until next year. It did. Gulfstream execs began hinting in August of 2014 at the Latin American Business Aviation Conference that they might unveil the P42 project soon. It will be a family of jets. Pre-announcing is a break with the “big surprise” theory of public relations still followed by most jet companies that wait for NBAA or some other major conference to reveal the news.
What will all the other companies be doing? Foley gave this rundown. Cessna (owned by Textron Aviation to include Beechcraft) is working on previously announced jet programs, as is Dassault. Bombardier seems caught up by internal turmoil and changes in management, and may not even finish some of the projects previously announced. Embraer has its “work cut out for it,” Foley said, building previously announced aircraft. (Gulfstream, the stage is yours.)
Something to look for is a coming transformation in engine fuel efficiency (15% improvement) based on technology already in use by the airlines, Foley said. He predicted one of the airframe companies will “grab the technology and run with it.” Whether it’s this year or five years from now, it will happen, he said.
A year ago today–well, I guess technically speaking it was a year ago yesterday, Sept. 17 (thanks to that whole international date line thing, and our “groundhog day” on Sept. 15)–we concluded our epic around-the-world flight in Mike Laver’s MU-2. Again we were off before sunrise for the 1,196-nautical-mile hop back to Frederick, Md., which would require 4.2 hours of flight time.
The photographer in me really appreciated the thin, growing line of impending dawn (as in the top photo), both because of the delicate colors and also because it provided an infrequent opportunity to balance the lighting outside the cockpit with the colorful glow from our Garmin avionics…which we’ve been watching for some 94 hours over the past 24 days. It was a rare opportunity. In many countries we could not depart before the appropriate offices opened, usually well after dawn. A couple of times when we did, the sunrise was obscured by clouds. A few more photos of the sunrise can be found on my original Day 25 blog post.
On the final leg back into Frederick–well, my final leg; Mike then has to retrace his route to his home airport in South Carolina–we reflect on the trip. I record much of the interview using a GoPro video camera, which is a first for me. Mike enjoyed the chance to fly around Australia again, and I enjoyed the vistas of the Great Barrier Reef, Ayers Rock, and the adjacent Olgas (above). There’s a published aerial tour procedure here, not unlike that for the Grand Canyon in the United States.
While it was a fantastic trip, I’m very happy to get home. Most of my business travel is a week or less, and 25 days is a long time to be on the road. Without the steadfast support of my lovely wife and family, and encouragement and support from the media team at AOPA, it would not have been possible. And the interest by others in the trip was more than I ever could imagine (and this goes beyond my dad, exchanging text messages with me via satellite while we’re crossing the vast Indian Ocean, even though the clock in Kentucky shows small, single nighttime digits–he still claims he “just woke up” for a few minutes, but I also know he always powers off his PC overnight). Thanks for flying around the world with us–again!
It’s been an incredible, fantastic trip–but after 24 days, we’re both ready to be home. We take off from Fairbanks before dawn, heading southeast toward Ketchikan, Alaska. That’s the broad Yukon River curving through the landscape below.
As the sun rises, it dramatically lights snow-covered, distant peaks before reaching into the valleys. Alaska’s vastness never fails to amaze me.
Just after sunrise seems like a good time to shoot a cockpit selfie. Mike and I are glad to be back in “civilian” clothes; our pilot uniforms are no longer needed.
Ketchikan is 820 nautical miles and a quick 3.1 hours, and our refueling there is lightning quick thanks to a fuel truck with dual refueling nozzles–which significantly speeds the process of refueling an MU-2. We’re on the ground less than half an hour, and it may have been only 20 minutes. The next leg, across Canada to Minot, N.D., is our longest of the trip at 1,232 nautical miles. Thanks to persistent headwinds, it’s also one of the slowest, with a groundspeed of only 246 knots. But it’s nice to arrive at our destination before dark. Did you know there’s a great Mexican restaurant in Minot? More details and additional photos are on the original Day 24 blog, available here.
And it is, for a couple of reasons. First, we cross the International Date Line, so for us it’s Sept. 15 all over again. Second, our two legs–from Petropavlovsk to Anadyr, Russia, and then to Fairbanks, Alaska, total 1,930 nautical miles and 6.9 hours of flight time. While this is not our longest day, it takes the most time, because things in Russia seem to move only so fast. Lots of waiting, especially at our fuel stop.
Mostly, however, it’s the short days we’ve been experiencing. We’ve been flying northeast, and while most of the trip has seen us cross one time zone a day, on average (no jet lag!), we lose 11 hours between Nagoya and Minot, N.D. Inevitably, these hours are made up by sleeping less.
There’s only one photo today (a few more appear on my original Day 23 blog, available here). I loved this mural on the airline terminal at Anadyr, and I must have snapped this frame as we parked. I ignored it, figuring I would get a better one from outside the airplane. That was not to be, however; I asked our handler if a photo would be OK and the stern man in the green military jacket said no. Then she offered to take a photo for me, and the answer again was “Nyet.” I didn’t see this frame again until reviewing photos for this retrospective blog series, and I’m glad the photojournalist in me kicked in early, before I was told no.
I don’t like the angle or the crop (or the fact that the tip tank is in the way), but the mural shows a Eskimo girl spreading her arms beneath the sun, and I’m told the inscription reads “Where the day begins.” This is a very apt description, because it would be hard to get much further east in Russia than this.
We’re late for our scheduled arrival time into Fairbanks, but the Customs man is waiting for us at the airport–it’s clear we aren’t the first airplane to arrive late from Russia. It’s also clear that we’re the last Customs customers of the day.
But there’s one more curve ball. Our hotel is oversold, so we’re put on a cab for a different hotel. The rooms are fine, but it’s nearly 11 p.m. and no nearby restaurants are open, so dinner ends up being beef sticks and Clif bars–probably just as well; we need the sleep.
When we arrived at the Nagoya airport a year ago today to fly north, our hosts presented each of us with copies of the previous day’s newspaper. Turns out our arrival was front-page news! I wish I knew what they said about us. They certainly couldn’t say we bounced the landing–Mike made a greaser here. More photos from Nagoya and more detail on this leg can be found on my original Day 22 blog post.
Alas, we couldn’t linger. The light rain that was falling was from the far outer bands of a typhoon that had been following us since we left the Philippines–stopping for a day in Japan allowed it to close with us. Like Bill Murray says in Caddyshack, “The heavy stuff won’t be coming in until later”–but a scheduled departure later in the day, and especially the following day, would have assured a delay (or a departure ahead of schedule). Besides, Russia was waiting, and we’d heard that things don’t happen quickly in Russia.
Our fuel stop in Yuzhno takes longer than average, but in comparison to tomorrow’s fuel stop, it’s like hitting the pits at a Nascar race. We’re flying along the Russian coast pretty much all day, and much of the trip is above a low cloud layer. As we approach Petropavlovsk, those clouds dissipate, and we see more of the mountainous terrain.
It turns out that Petropavlovsk is almost surrounded by mountains, and we’re racing the sun to the Earth’s surface. It’s not that we can’t fly at night, but we were hoping to see some of the landscape from the ground. By the time we landed and refueled the plane, it was beyond pitch dark. Guess there’s always tomorrow’s ride back to the airport.
I’m not sure what the rules are regarding photography in Russia. I do know that if I asked to take a photo, the answer usually was “Nyet” (no). Except after dark at Petropavlovsk, coaching the fueler through the complicated process of refueling an MU-2. Only a couple floodlights and the man’s headlamp lit the scene. When I had his attention I pointed at the camera, and then at him–he struck this pose, which must be Russian for “yes.”
A year ago today was our fifth and last nonflying day of the around-the-world trip, and we spent most of it sightseeing around Nagoya. We considered riding the high-speed bullet train to Tokyo–the station was under our hotel–but ultimately decided to stay local.
Most of the morning was spent touring Nagoya Castle, rich in history and a prominent local landmark. The castle is adorned with Kinshachi–gold-plated fish, each wearing about 44 kilograms of 18-carat gold.They were said to be able to summon water, and were used as charms to prevent fire–a very real consideration in all-wood structure of this size.
Tiles make interesting patterns on one of the castle’s lower roofs. More photos of the castle can be seen on my original Day 21 post, online here.
A high point of the day came late in the afternoon, when Mike was surprised by longtime friend Ross Russo waiting in the hotel lobby. Ross, who I’ve know for many years as well, actually was responsible for drawing me into the around-the-world flight. Mike originally had asked Ross to accompany him on this trip–but Ross’s daughter had planned a wedding in the middle, so he deferred…and suggested me as a possibility. It turns out that after the wedding, Ross and a cousin flew to Japan to climb Mt. Fuji, and the day after they got off the mountain, they rode the Bullet Train from Tokyo to pull off the surprise, deftly (I think) arranged through text messaging.
We enjoyed the company of our hosts from Mitsubishi, and appreciated the down time. The next two days will see us cover more than 3,500 nautical miles as we fly up the Russian coast to Fairbanks, Alaska. In four days, we’ll be home!
Today’s the day we landed in Nagoya, Japan, a year ago today. This is where our airplane was built 40 years ago–and the model made its first flight a year ago tomorrow. While this was a trip Mike Laver had long wanted to do, being in Nagoya on Sept. 13 for that anniversary drove the timing for the trip.
The photo above, of a cargo ship crossing the vast East China Sea, may be one of my favorite from the trip. (This is a different image from the one in last year’s Day 20 blog post, available here). We saw quite a few vessels, both cargo ships and fishing boats, on this leg from Taiwan to Japan–quite different from the vast emptiness of the Indian Ocean several days earlier.
Our reception in Nagoya, where Mitsubishi Heavy Industries’ aircraft division is headquartered, was fantastic. A large group, primarily comprised of Mitsubishi managers and employees, greeted us.
Shortly after this photo was made, some of the welcoming committee (I’m guessing most were engineers) swarmed the airplane, studying and photographing specific components–things like the landing gear, which most of us who fly airplanes usually take for granted.
After lunch we tour two aviation museums, including Mitsubishi’s private aviation museum. Mitsubishi’s includes an MU-2 that the company used as a corporate aircraft in Japan until only a couple of years ago. The other museum had one of three prototype MU-2. Dinner was very traditional Japanese–and fantastic.
This was the first thing I saw outside my hotel window in Lapu-Lapu City, Philippines, in the misty dawn light a year ago today. Today’s an “easy” day, just one leg of 1,010 nautical miles to Taoyuan, Taiwan; the flight will take us 3.8 hours. We want to arrive in Nagoya, Japan, on Sept. 13 and Mike wisely changed an off day in the Philippines–and a two-leg day into Japan–to two one-leg days, to give us more flexibility and (ideally) an earlier arrival in Japan.
Here’s a wide shot showing all the boats off our hotel, after the fog burned off–and after the cameras sat outside long enough to warm up; from cold air conditioning to humid outside air caused immediate fogging. Sometimes the view from on high doesn’t require an airplane; think we were on the 10th or 12th floor of this high-rise hotel.
Since we’re only flying one leg, we don’t have to take off before the sun wakes up and has at least its first cup of coffee. Of course, we’re limited to one each, since the airplane does not offer a toilet. (We have alternatives, but one of my goals is not to require them.) The same three friendly, very polite, and extremely efficient women who helped us clear into the country meet us at the airplane for our exit paperwork. Customs and immigration come to you at the airplane, here–at least they did for us. A wonderful change of pace, and we enjoy not having to schlep through another airline terminal–twice.
Arriving in Taiwan, we wait for the fuel truck–and then for a water truck, to wash excess fuel from the airplane after the wing tanks were overfilled. Good thing we’re staying overnight (that’s our hotel directly beyond the airplane, but getting there takes a 15-minute van ride to the airline terminal, then–after the customs and immigration dance–a 10-minute car ride to the hotel.
Even with all that, there’s still time to explore. Turns out there’s an aviation museum a couple hundred yards from the hotel, so I walk over. The admission fee is 30 Taiwanese dollars–I don’t know how much that is–but I don’t have any local currency, and they don’t take credit cards. As I start to leave, the attendant bows and gestures toward the entrance–they let me in for free. This all was accomplished with me knowing none of their language, and she knew very little English. Photos from and more information about the museum are on my original Day 19 blog.
Our day one year ago today started early, met before dawn on the Thursday Island ferry dock to be cleared out of Australia by a customs and immigration representative. The sun was rising as we approached Horn Island, where a short shuttle ride took us to the airport. That part of the trip is told well in last year’s Day 18 blog post.
Our first leg is a relatively short 754-mile, 2.7-hour hop to Papua, Indonesia. This mountain range is one of the highest that we encounter on the trip, although at 25,000 feet they’re still well below us.
There’s a light rain falling in Papua, and the refueler uses an umbrella to keep rain out of the fuel tank. We appreciate this. During our stop we heard a siren blare–it sounded a lot like an old air-raid siren. We hear it again as we taxi for departure, and only then realize it’s apparently a signal to stop traffic on a road that crosses the runway.
Not long after departing on the second leg, 1,108 miles and 3.8 hours to Lapu-Lapu City, Philippines, we cross the Equator. This time we’re ready for it, and I manage to photograph the GPS with our longitude right at 00 degrees, 00.00 minutes. Don’t ask me how I did this, because the numbers held for less than a second. But I was pleased to get this shot, after we missed our initial crossing of the Equator southbound–we didn’t catch it until we noticed a south longitude at the next stop. Because the Equator is not really critical to aerial navigation, it is not displayed on aviation GPSs or IFR navigational charts.
Eventually we land in the Philippines, where the people are very nice and we enjoy being parked a little further away from the parade of arriving and departing airliners. I’m still surprised at how close we were parked to the airline terminal in so many countries, especially through Indonesia–there just isn’t enough general aviation activity to justify infrastructure (ramps and FBOs) that we take for granted here in the United States. And this is on the anniversary of the September 11 terror attacks; the irony is not lost on us.
It’s also a nice surprise to see Cessna 172s come and go on training flights here. Other than in Australia and England, we haven’t seen any signs of active flight-training activity anywhere on our journey.