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Most normal sane people, on starting a new job in Mozambique, might simply wrestle with the decision: To fly BA, Qatar or Lufthansa? Not this one. I had proved to myself that I could fly long distance without going for an unscheduled swim. Carpe Diem had also proved herself with two Atlantic crossings.
Two powerful new engines were straining at the leash, ready for the Dark Continent and perhaps beyond. I should mention, Dear Reader, that I have not yet revealed that last bit to the FO, but she is resilient and very understanding. Anyway, I have always wanted to go to Khartoum.
Someone had to do the boring stuff. Meanwhile, having just returned from a month in Houston meeting my new colleagues at head office, I had less than 10 days to plan and execute a solo voyage of several thousand miles. In one sense, long distance flying is easy. Just a series of 4 hour cross-country flights. Piece of cake. The first 4 legs of this 10 leg trip would be over familiar territory, requiring nothing more than filing the flight plans, arranging the usual handling services from MedAvia in Malta and exercising the BP avgas card.
It was after Crete that things would get interesting. Overflight or Landing Permits are required for most African countries, and avgas is scarce north of the Equator. If I were to try to refuel with Jet-A, my piston engines would stop and I would be continuing my journey by camel. If the natives were friendly.