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2018 marked a pivotal moment in my aviation journey. With a brand-new instrument rating in hand, the skies beckoned, whispering tantalizing challenges to my adventurous spirit. One challenge stood out, audaciously inviting: a flight from Germany to my beloved Israel. Yet, the sprawling, unpredictable Mediterranean presented itself as a formidable barrier. My aircraft for this adventure: Sky Bavaria’s Diamond 40.
Recognizing the sheer audacity of this mission, Alex, a close friend and soon-to-be co-pilot in our pursuit of a Diamond 42, joined me. Together, we assumed the responsibility of ensuring the safety of Christina, Alex’s partner who had inexplicably placed her trust in our hands for this journey.
The flight preparation included taking out war and risk cover for the DA40 and, among other things, renting a small life raft.
Our adventure commenced with a sweeping flyover of Croatia, targeting Brac for a leisurely lunch. But, as fate would have it, an unexpected airport closure, coupled with strong headwinds and Alex’s penchant for low coastal flying, had our fuel gauge alarmingly low by the time we approached Split, our backup landing spot. Touching down with hearts racing and shirts sticking, our relief was short-lived as a handling agent accosted us: “You cannot stay here!” Negotiations and Croatian Palatschinken ensued, ensuring our sustenance before we continued our voyage to Yanina, Greece. There, after indulging in a local green BBQ, we sought rest, bracing ourselves for the blue expanse awaiting us.
Our fuel gauge alarmingly low by the time we approached Split, our backup landing spot.
With Cyprus in our sights the next day, we departed Yanina equipped with life vests and an ever-present raft. Our journey, however, was peppered with relentless check-ins from Greek air traffic control, raising disconcerting doubts about their radar capabilities. It was after Crete that our journey threw its major curveball.
Our flight was peppered with relentless check-ins from Greek air traffic control.
A seemingly trivial error in tuning in to the right frequency left us cut off from the Greek control tower and without any responses from the Cypriots. Modern electronics surrounded us, but their benefits remained elusive, mainly due to our unfamiliarity with Garmin’s intricacies. The vast blue of the Mediterranean below and the open skies above became our only constants, as multiple frequency attempts yielded silence.
In the midst of this uncertainty, I managed to tune in a relevant frequency, and Nicosia Radar’s voice finally broke through, reprimanding and relieving simultaneously: “We were looking for you on the guard frequency 121.500. Why didn’t you respond?”
I managed to tune in a relevant frequency, and Nicosia Radar’s voice finally broke through, reprimanding and relieving simultaneously.
This harrowing experience in the skies imparted invaluable lessons:
- The Guard Frequency is Essential: Always dial it in, and ideally monitor it on COM2.
- Embrace the Unknown: The guard frequency isn’t just an accessory; it’s a lifeline. If lost, or in need of help, it’s your first point of contact.
- Reverence for the Mediterranean: Future voyages over this sea were approached with increased caution, an additional engine, and the indelible wisdom from that day.
Reflecting on this expedition, I realize it wasn’t just about connecting destinations but also about the profound lessons the journey itself imparted—lessons of humility, readiness, and the ever-enchanting enigma of the skies.
- Lost Over the Mediterranean: A Pilot’s Tale of Lessons Learned - October 13, 2023
- “Geneva Tower, I have to go back” - October 14, 2022
- A gear problem? - April 20, 2021
“Modern electronics surrounded us, but their benefits remained elusive, mainly due to our unfamiliarity with Garmin’s intricacies.”
Hmmm! Such a flight but unfamiliar with the aircraft which includes the avionics.
Sorry for not being a perfect pilot at the time. I thought we’re here to learn and discuss
I’d say his comment was indeed a lesson.
And lesson 4: If the new freq doesn’t raise anyone, go back to your previous freq.
P.S. “Tune in to,” not “tune into.”
Hi Guy, Sure was an epic trip! Thanks for writing your story. We’re did you make landfall in Isreal. Haifa?
Back then, Tel Aviv city airport was still open….
It’s not there anymore :(
Amazing how much confidence people put in a single engine aircraft flying over Vast Expanses of Water! The winter of 1978, I was flying as a First Officer for North Central Airlines in a Convair 580. After landing at Milwaukee Wisconsin, for a 1.5 hour stop over and everyone having deplaned, including the Captain & the Flight Attendant, I was alone in the cockpit catching up on paperwork in the form of the Maintenance Log & Flight Plan. The overhead radio speaker above me was ON, and the radio still tuned to Ground Control (last freq used). While pushing my pencil, I was distracted with the bits & pieces I was overhearing until finally realizing that the Controller in the Tower was working both Ground & Tower Frequencies together. Switching over to Tower Freq., I was finally able to piece together what was unfolding. A Piper Cherokee 180, with two people aboard was on a flight from Benton Harbor, Michigan to Milwaukee WI., overflying the Southern Portion of Lake Michigan in the month of February….”DUMB,” and had experienced an engine failure. Their fate was sealed & they were aware. I’ll remember their last radio transmissions until the day I Die. “Gone Still Without a Trace.” Surviving a Ditching, is just the beginning of what “Follows!”
checked ur dates @ https://data.ntsb.gov/carol-main-public/query-builder?month=2&year=1979
Glad You reached the beloved Israel. I wish I could do the same this autumn. But I’m afraid the air space in that beloved country is clised.
Closed, not “clised”, of course.