Around the World in '62

O

Okami

Charter Member
Hi all,

It's been a while since I last posted here, and I still have a Proctor flight to complete (but it's routed via Libya, and, well...), but I decided on posting a 'round the world journey.

Last year I completed another such journey, which I had actually started a year before that. This journey was 'wildly' ranged along the 1955-1964 era, as I only had a limited amount of aircraft types at my disposal (I hadn't yet learnt to fly the jets, and key types such as Manfred Jahn's L-749 or the VBF CV-240 hadn't been released yet), as well as a limited number of timetables.

This time, however, I will be trying to keep my journey as close to 1962 as possible. This was a momentous time in civil aviation: companies worldwide were acquiring the new jets, while several ex-colonies and dominions set up their own independent airlines.

Our journey begins on a Sunday in May 1962, on the apron of London's Heathrow airport. Waiting for us is Bealine flight 8820, destination Manchester.



At around half past 10 in the morning, the aircraft's crew begin starting up the engines. Around this time, the last of the passengers climb aboard. With little under half of the seats filled, the crew contacts the tower and requests permission to taxi onto the active.



After obtaining its clearance, Bealine 8820 revs up its engines, and soon it is taxying to its allotted runway, 27L. It is just past 10:40, its scheduled departure time. The apron at Heathrow is bustling with activity. Just ahead of the Viscount, a BEA Vanguard is heading to the same runway, this being Bealine flight 48 on its way to Madrid.



Soon both flights are cleared for take-off. The crew throttle up their engines, and after they release their brakes their Viscount starts rolling down the runway. It's 10:48:48 as the Viscount breaks loose from the ground and starts climbing. The crew retract the gear and flaps, and reduce the throttle to climb power.



Turning for the Daventry beacon and onto airway Amber 1, the Viscount soon breaks through the cloudlayer. Switching to London control, the crew acknowledges its instructions and climbs for FL140.



About a minute or twenty later, the crew receives new instructions to start its descend into Manchester. They are still about 40 miles south, having just reached the Lichfield beacon.



On their approach into Manchester, Bealine 8820's crew is warned about an aircraft in its vicinity. Looking out of their port window, they notice the Jersey Dakota, about 2 miles to their port and 2000 feet below them. It too is on an approach into Manchester.



With only 8 more miles to go, the crew intercept the ILS of runway 24. Lowering their flaps and gear, they start their final descend. It is 11:31 AM when the Viscount touches down - right on schedule. Minutes later, the crew park their aircraft at their gate. Bealine 8820 has arrived.



Next time:
The first international leg.
 
A little over 3 1/2 hours later, our next flight departs. The carrier this time is Cunard Eagle, the flight is Eagle 620 with Bergen (Norway) as its destination.



Yes, "Cunard Eagle", not "Eagle", Cunard having acquired a 60% stake into Eagle Aviation in 1960. At the time, Cunard realised the days of the oceanliners were at their end, with jet aircraft replacing them on trans-Atlantic routes. Cunard thus hoped to gain back part of their former passengers - but this meant they would have to compete with BOAC, who held the British monopoly on trans-Atlantic passenger flights.



Cunard-Eagle managed to obtain the necessary permits for direct London-New York flights, only to have them blocked by the Aviation Minister on the insistence of BOAC. As a result, by the time Cunard-Eagle got its first 707-420, they could only use it on their London-Nassau route (previously operated by Britannia). However, from Nassau, Cunard Eagle had direct connections to Miami and New York via its Cunard Eagle (Bermuda) associate, which operated Viscounts.



BOAC reacted in quite an unusually agressive way: they forced a joint venture with Cunard too - in fact, they took over Cunard-Eagle's trans-Atlantic jet operations, a hostile take-over if you want. It effectively sank the Cunard-Eagle deal - by 1963 the company had been renamed to "British Eagle International Airlines". It also brought a temporary end to the company's trans-Atlantic jet operations: British Eagle eventually started a 707-service to Nassau in February of 1968, but by that time the company was already in deep financial trouble, eventually ceasing operations in November of the same year.



This, however, is all still history in the making at the time of this flight. The crew of Eagle 620 has no way of knowing any of this is about to happen; in fact, they are probably in high spirits right now, proud to be working for one of the members of the select membership of jet operators. Perhaps they are wondering when they will be flying jets as well? After all, their current aircraft is among the older Viscounts of the fleet - G-ARKH originally having been built for Aer Lingus, as their second Viscount ever ordered.



In fact, right now this Viscount is showing its age. During the flight, the crew notice engine 4 keeps losing revs every now and then, and that the torque is markedly lower than on any of the other engines. Luckily, Bergen isn't that far anymore.



While on their last leg from Stavanger to Bergen, the crew pass the Fureskogen. It's hard for the crew not to think about their colleagues for a moment*, but with Bergen's tower radioing instructions for their landing, they soon return to their tasks.



At 18:50:21, Eagle 620 touches down on the runway at Bergen, right on schedule. The crew throttles back their engines - only to notice during their roll that the aircraft starts to yaw to the right. Correcting with their footbrakes, the crew manages to keep the Viscount on the runway. A quick glance on the dials soon reveals why the aircraft started behaving so oddly: as they throttled her back, engine 4 finally decided to call things quits. It looks like the old Viscount will have to postpone its return journey while its engine is fixed...

Next time: another operator, and a short domestic hop.

* Note: Cunard Eagle Viking G-AHPM, a charter enroute from London to Stavanger, crashed on August 9th 1961 while on an approach into Stavanger, killing all 39 aboard. The official investigation later listed the cause as 'a deviation from the prescribed flight plan for reasons unknown'.
 
Many thanks for the kind comments, everybody! :) I hope I will be able to entertain everybody with this thread.

The sun is already setting on the first day of our journey (Sunday, May 27th 1962) when our last flight of the day takes off out of Flesland airport. This is Scandinavian flight 322, a DC-7C headed for Oslo's Fornebu airport.



As it is the last flight of the day, the aircraft is barely one third filled. It is 21:08:06 when our flight lifts off, and soon after taking off it turns east towards its destination.



In the light of the setting sun, the scenery looks quite spectacular. The Norwegian landscape is quite a stunning sight to see... However, it is likely most of the passengers have little interest in the scenery.



In the cockpit, the crew are busy working. Flight 322 is the last flight of the day for this crew: normally they should have flown it with a Metropolitan, however it was replaced by a DC-7C due to circumstances.*



While approaching Oslo, Scandinavian 322 crosses path with Scandinavian 319, the last flight of the day in the opposite direction. The two DC-7Cs cross one another, separated by a couple of thousand feet and at a couple of miles distance; however both are well visible to one another, their navigation lights perfectly visible in the darkening skies.



Soon flight 322 starts its descent into Oslo. To their port, the crew notice the lights of another aircraft: this turns out to be a Braathens DC-4, also heading into Oslo. As they descend through the cloud layers, the crew soon find themselves in reduced visibility: it is raining over Oslo. With the runway their being vectored into lacking ILS, the crew instead look out for their runway's approach lights and VASI.



It is 21:52:43 when the DC-7C touches down at Fornebu airport. As they are slowing down on the runway, the crew hear the tower giving instructions for a go-around to the inbound Braathens flight: apparently it was too close behind us. Turning off the runway, the crew shut down the inner engines, and taxi the DC-7C on the two outer ones. Meanwhile, the next inbound flight lands: this turns out to be another Scandinavian Metropolitan.



Minutes later, Scandinavian 322 pulls up onto the apron and shuts down its engines. Soon the groundcrews swarm over the DC-7C, pushing the airstairs into place, while others unlock the baggage compartiment and start unloading the aircraft. Meanwhile, the passengers start deplaning. In the distance, a Loftleidir aircraft taxis onto the runway and takes off. The first day of our journey is over, but the life at the airport still goes on...

Next: Monday, May 28th 1962, beginning with another international flight...

*Note: actually, not unforseen technical circumstances, but a reading error on my side. I misread the SAS timetable and mistakenly took the times for flight 319 from Oslo to Bergen; the flight I had actually intended to fly was flight 320, a DC-7C departing out of Bergen at 19:50 and arriving in Oslo at 20:50.
 
And so, on the morning of Monday, May 28th 1962, we find ourselves on the ramp of Oslo Fornebu airport, boarding the morning flight to Stockholm. It is about a quarter to eight as the last calls are made for Scandinavian 480, a Convair CV-440 Metropolitan.



Some ten minutes later, the passengers have been led onto the apron and into the waiting Metropolitan. A late arrival manages to catch the plane just before its doors are locked. With all the passengers seated, the crew start their final checks before they start the engines. Soon afterwards, Scandinavian 480 taxies to the runway.



With runway 1 the active runway, Scandinavian 480 is forced to wait while another flight backtracks to the treshold. A couple of minutes later, with the runway clear, it is the Metropolitan's turn to taxi into place. With take-off clearance received, the crew throttle up the Convairliner's two Pratt & Whitney Double Wasps. The immense roar of the engines at full power is clearly audible, even inside the 'sound-proofed' cabin. At 08:05 local time, the Metropolitan clears the runway and starts its climb.



Turning away from the higher grounds just North of the airport, the Metropolitan sets its course for the Swedish border. With its engines throttled back to their cruise settings, some rest returns to the cabin. While the stewardess starts tending to the passengers, the crew set their instruments for the first beacon along Airway Green 3, that of Romskog just across the Norwegian-Swedish border.



Minutes later, the stewardess announces the border crossing to her passengers. "Attention, ladies and gentlemen, we are now crossing the Swedish border. Please do not forget to adjust your watches." Back in 1962, there was still an hour's difference between Sweden and the rest of the Scandinavian countries (GMT+2 in Sweden; GMT+1 in Norway and Denmark. Iceland had GMT+0, by the way). Also, Swedish traffic drove on the left-hand side, like in the UK - something that only changed in the 1970s.



Meanwhile, everything passes rather routinely in the cockpit. After passing the Romskog beacon, Scandinavian passes Karlstad and Halsberg with little to report. As the plane nears the Aker beacon, Stockholm control radioes instructions for the flight to begin its descent into Stockholm's new airport at Arlanda.



Situated North of the Swedish capital, the new airport at Arlanda (opened in 1961) is still relatively small in 1962: the international terminal is just a two-storey building with an observation deck on the roof - http://www.airliners.net/photo//0676376/L/ - while the aircraft line up directly in front of the building: http://www.airliners.net/photo/Finnair/Convair-340-41/0272586/L/ Then again, as only the mayor carriers land there (the charter companies and Linjeflyg continue to operate out of Stockholm Bromma), this relatively small terminal and apron (which is in fact larger than one would guess from seeing the picture) is still more than sufficient for the new airport.



It is 08:22 local time (09:22 in Norway) when Scandinavian 480 touches down at Arlanda - almost 10 minutes ahead of schedule. Moments later, the Metropolitan joins the flightline in front of the terminal, where the crew shuts down both the aircraft's engines. While part of the passengers head towards the terminal on their way to their families, or the busses that are waiting to bring them to the Swedish capital, we head towards the transit zone - in little over an hour our next flight will depart...

Next time: joining the Jet Set...
 
Now, before people start making their conclusions: this thread isn't sponsored in any way by Scandinavian Airlines System - as it happens, SAS pretty much had a monopoly on inter-Scandinavian traffic at the time. Yes, there were other airlines such as Braathens, Linjeflyg, Falck, Cimber Air and Widerøe, but these were all small domestic airlines at the time. Likewise, a number of Scandinavian charter carriers such as Sterling, Nordair, Transair Sweden, Flying Enterprise and Scanair existed, but at the time none of these had scheduled flights. (Fred Olsen isn't listed, but this was a pure freight company back then.)

With this disclaimer stated, it is time for us to resume our journey. Little over an hour after landing at Arlanda airport, we are boarding another aircraft again, this time Scandinavian flight 551 enroute to Copenhagen.



Like all SAS aircraft, our Caravelle bears a Viking-name: OY-KRF is Torskil Viking. Just for the record, the two previous aircraft flown were DC-7C LN-MOD Guttorm Viking, and LN-KLB Ivar Viking. While already nice on the airline's other ships, the distinctive Drekar design looks particularly sleek on the Caravelle.



After Scandinavian 551 radioes in with Arlanda tower, she receives clearance for the flight to Copenhagen's Kastrup airport. Traffic is rather busy this morning, though, which means it is 09:57 local time by the time the Caravelle finally lifts off - about a quarter of an hour after her scheduled departure time.



Moments afterwards, the Caravelle is climbing to its cruising altitude. Still relatively new in 1962, the Caravelle has only been in service with SAS for 3 years - the airline being its launch customer, inaugurating the type on its routes even before Air France. In these three years they have become a familiar sight all over European airports, substituting older types such as the DC-6B, DC-7C and CV-440 on the airline's European network, making it as far as Egypt and Iran.



Powered by two Rolls Royce Avon engines - the same type used on the Hawker Hunter, Canberra, Saab Draken and Comet - the Caravelle climbs like a home-sick angel, laying down its characteristic trail of black smoke behind it. Inside the cabin, though, the passengers hear relatively little of the two jet engines. Comfortably seated, they enjoy the attention of the cabin crew.



Soon the Caravelle is at cruising altitude, and following airway Red 1 into Copenhagen. Enroute they get an updated weather report: upon their arrival in Kastrup they can expect low clouds and reduced sight. The runway in use is runway 22.



Not even three quarters of an hour have gone by, when Scandinavian 551 receives instructions to commence its descend into Kastrup. Nearing the airport, the crew is warned of traffic ahead of them: they are right behind a Finnair Caravelle which is approaching the airport as well; also ahead of them is a Scandinavian Metropolitan which is also inbound, but which they will be passing on thair approach, while some ten miles behind them is another Scandinavian Caravelle.



Making sure they give the Finnair Caravelle enough room for its approach, the crew prepare their aircraft for the landing. Using the flaps and airbrakes to reduce their speed, the crew intercept the runway's ILS. Moments later they are cleared to land, the runway being clear of any other traffic.



At 10:02 AM Danish time (11:02 Swedish time), the Caravelle touches down onto runway 22. The crew cut their throttles, and immediately deploy the Caravelle's braking chute. Gently the aircraft comes to a halt, and as they taxi off the runway the crew cut the chute. After requesting a taxi to the gate, Scandinavian 551 head out to the airports new terminal.



Minutes later, the Caravelle's two Avons wind down, as the crew clear the cabin personel to open the cabin door. The passengers, having enjoyed the smooth ride, are greeted by the cabin crew on their way out. Our second flight of the day has ended, however, in two hours time we will be taking our next flight...

Next time: Berlin or bust...
 
If you have to fly an airplane that doesn't have three tails and four roaring radial engines it might as well be the Caravelle. It may very well have been the last beautiful commercial aircraft before the long line of boring tube liners. The incredible Concorde being the one more recent exception.

I am wondering however if the braking chute was used on a regular basis or if it was only for the "tighter" runways. There would be a considerable maintenance and financial burden attached to it's use.
On the other hand the early jets suffered from less effective wings and flaps than what more modern jets employ so their approach speeds were likely a bit higher.

Does anyone have any concrete info on this ??

Again....a wonderful series Nikko. Enjoy Berlin, it is one of my favorites of the big cities. And I am not just showing off national pride :mixedsmi:
:ernae:

Stefan
 
Hi Stefan,

Glad you are enjoying the series so far. :)

Concerning the Caravelle and its drag chute: it has to be remembered that the initial models of Caravelles had no thrust reversers: these were only introduced on the VIR series.

Pictures of the Caravelle using the drag chute are rare indeed: however a quick scan of Airliners.net does turn up a couple of pictures, and not at the airports where you would expect them to be used: these pictures were taken at:
- http://www.airliners.net/photo/Air-France/Sud-SE-210-Caravelle/0115849/M/
Paris/Orly airport (runway length 10893 ft)
- http://www.airliners.net/photo/Scandinavian-Airlines-System/Sud-SE-210-Caravelle/0143868/M/
Düsseldorf airport (runway length 8380 ft)
- http://www.airliners.net/photo/Air-France/Sud-SE-210-Caravelle/1219906/M/
and Berlin Tegel airport (runway length 7818 ft)

As to the circumstances under which they were used, I have no real idea. It does make a pretty picture, though, doesn't it...? ;)
 
Anyway... Berlin. The 'wrong' Berlin, I'm very much afraid.

Back in 1962, there were two ways to fly Berlin. Either you took a plane to Cologne, Düsseldorf, Frankfurt, Hamburg, Hanover, Munich, Nuremburg or Stuttgart, so you could connect with an Air France, BEA or Pan American flight into the city's Tempelhof or Tegel airports... or you could get a connection from most European capitals with many of the Eastern European flag carriers.



And so we find ourselves once again at Kastrup, some two hours after our arrival per Caravelle. Waiting for us is the newest flagship of the Hungarian national airline Malev, the Ilyushin IL-18D.



A couple of minutes past noon, the cabin crew close the main door, and the engines roar to a start. Soon, the IL-18 is on its way to the runway, and at about twenty past twelve, the aircraft lifts into the air.



Minutes later, the aircraft is climbing over the south of Sjaelland on its way to the Mona-beacon at Møn. Along the way, the visibility improves, to the point that when the aircraft starts crossing the Baltic to East Germany, the Ilyushin is flying in clear skies.



A quarter of an hour later, the IL-18 starts its descent into Berlin's Schonefeld airport. After a couple of turns, the crew stabilises the turboprop on its approach. It is 13:08, just over 45 minutes after our departure at Kastrup, when the aircraft touches down at East-Berlin's airport.



Not much later, the four-engined turboprop pulls up to the airport terminal and comes to a halt. One by one, the four engines are shut down, and soon after the crew opens the cabin door. Outside, some friendly Vopos are waiting to... well, check all of the passengers. We, however, won't be staying very long, just barely long enough to get ourselves acquainted with the unpleasant stares of our East-German minders...



Next time: going South towards the West...
 
About two hours later, the call comes for our next flight, Malev 388 to Vienna. Other than the terminal we haven't managed to see much of Berlin, however we will be returning here quite soon...



Compared to the IL-18, the IL-14 feels a lot more... "basic". The unsung workhorse of the East-bloc airlines, it was only taken into service eight years before our journey, as a replacement for the IL-12 and LI-2. In terms of passenger capacity, however, it is more equivalent to the DC-3 than to the Convairliner, with just 28 passenger seats.



With the wind having turned since our arrival here, the crew is forced to taxi the IL-14 to the far end of the airport, and some additional delay from an aircraft on its approach means that we depart the airport a quarter of an hour later than scheduled.



Soon, though, the IL-14 is climbing out to the East, towards airway Amber 4 which will take it towards Prague, from where it will joing Amber 15 towards Vienna. This route takes us close to the East-German border with Poland.



About an hour later, we have passed the Czechoslovak border, and are right overhead of Prague's Ruzyne airport. From here, it's still a good hour to Vienna...



... which means that about 35 minutes later, the aircraft starts its descend into the Austrian capital's airport.



Our approach brings us as far as Bratislava, just across the Czechoslovak border from Vienna. Both the old (Vajnory) and new (Ivanka) airport are clearly visible as we pass the city at low altitude, before we turn towards Vienna's Schwekat airport.



Eventually we land at Vienna, still some 5 minutes behind schedule. With the Malev Ilyushin parked at the terminal, its crew begin their preparations for their final leg into Sofia; however, we will be taking another flight out of Schwekat in little over an hour's time...
 
The last flight of the second day of our journey, May 28th 1962, brings us from Vienna to Zürich. As we were just too late to take the last Austrian Airlines flight, we are taking the Swissair late evening flight instead, namely Swissair flight 243.



Like most airlines of the time, Swissair is going through a transitionary period: having purchased long-haul jets (in their case, DC-8s and CV-990As), the Swiss airline is busy phasing out its long-haul propliners, and are using them on short- and medium-haul flights - this being a stop-gap measure, until they can replace them on their route network by the new Caravelles. As such, this is probably one of the last revenue flights of this graceful propliner while carrying Swissairs livery.



Just past six o'clock in the evening, Swissair 243 requests its clearance from Vienna control, and little over ten minutes later, the flight has already departed Schwekat airport. After turning onto course, the crew head West towards their destination.



Soon they are climbing out over the clouds. To their port side, the crew can clearly see the Alps, stretching out all the way to the horizon.



High above the weather, the DC-7C experiences only little turbulence. Undoubtedly the passengers are enjoying the views out of their cabin window. Having finally reached cruising altitude, the crew set the autopilot and prepare themselves for what should be an uneventful flight.



Passing Munich, the crew receive a weather update, predicting fog and reduced visibility on their approach into Zürich. While the skies are still clear, the crew can clearly see patches of clouds and haze in the distance...



... and as they start descending into Zürich, they run into some cloud banks. Signalling their passengers to fasten their seatbelts and to extinguish their cigarettes, the crew begin following Zürich control's instructions. Thanks to some tailwinds, they are slightly ahead of schedule...



... so much so, even, that they arrive five minutes early. The DC-7C touches down at the airport some ten minutes to eight in the evening, ending our second day of the journey. It was a hectic day, but tomorrow promises to be even busier...
 
Really enjoying this, and some lovely screenshots to boot. :salute:

Those Malev Ilyushin's look really nice, I'll have to hunt out those skins.
 
AndyG43 said:
Really enjoying this, and some lovely screenshots to boot. :salute:

Those Malev Ilyushin's look really nice, I'll have to hunt out those skins.
Click to expand...

Hi Andy,

Glad to hear you're enjoying the thread. :)

The Malev textures are slightly trickier to find, they were only released via Simviation. Both were made by T. Feri, and they are respectively for the Edgar Guinart IL-18D, and the Jens B. Kristensen IL-14. (search for "Malev")

Alternately, if you have the W. Beckert IL-14 in your hangar, a Malev repaint by Jaap de Baare is also available via Flightsim - http://www.flightsim.com/kdl.php?fid=136122

If it's the Vladimir Zhyhulskiy IL-14 you have, a repaint by Biro Istvan is also available for that one via Flightsim - http://www.flightsim.com/kdl.php?fid=112340

Finally, if you have the Pavel Hvatkin IL-18D, a Malev repaint package for that one is available via Flightsim - http://www.flightsim.com/kdl.php?fid=107211

Hope this helps. :)
 
Okami said:
Hope this helps. :)
Click to expand...

If it doesn't I need psychiatric intervention - thanks for the thoroughness, It's Jens' Il-14 I use, and Edgar's Il-18 (although I shall check out the other one as well).

Looking forward to the next installment :jump:
 
Hi Andy,

You're welcome! :)

Day 3: Tuesday, May 29th, 1962

Anyway, after a good night's sleep, we're up again and waiting at the gates at Zürich-Kloten airport. After having enjoyed a nice breakfast and some good cups of coffee, we pick up one of the morning papers at the news stand in the terminal... and all of a sudden it becomes clear why our East-German friends yesterday were a bit nervous. Apparently, an incident happened involving some East-Germans trying to breach the Wall, which escalated into a firefight between East-German and US border guards. Doesn't look all too promising...



After glancing at all of the major headlines, we fold our newspaper and head for the gate: our flight is being called. We are taking Swissair 216, headed for München-Riem airport. The airport is shrouded in fog, but apparently this is only local: the pilots assure us that it will cause no delay.



And sure enough, exactly as scheduled, our flight heads out from the gate at five past ten, and five minutes later we've taken off. After our initial climb, the aircraft turns East, towards Munich...



... and while we are climbing, our Metropolitan breaks through the cloud layers. Above the ground fog, there's clear blue sky - and it soon becomes apparent that the pilots were right, this was only a local patch of fog.



All in all, our flight to Münich is rather uneventful - we barely have enough time to go through our morning newspaper, and to enjoy the refreshments, before our flight begins its descent into Riem.



As runway 26 is in use and we are coming in from the West, our flight needs to go all the way around the airport. Already some ten minutes before we touch down, we can clearly see the semi-circular lay-out of the airport buildings, and the apron - a kind of mini-Tempelhof, so to say...



Exactly on schedule, Swissair 216 touches down at the Bavarian capital's airport. Within a couple of minutes, the pilot taxies the aircraft off the runway, towards the terminal where it comes to a halt. With a friendly smile, our stewardess greets us as we make our way out of the aircraft.



Our next flight departs in about one and a half hours... destination, the hottest spot in Europe.
 
Of course, in 1962 the hottest spot on earth is Berlin. If anybody expects a war to erupt within the next year, it will undoubtedly be here... certainly not obscure places such as Cuba, Laos or Vietnam.

As mentioned earlier, odd things are happening in Berlin. Barely a year ago, a wall went up overnight, and ever since it seems the relations have gotten ever so more frosty between the two superpowers, with tens of thousands of soldiers squared up against one another on a piece of ground measuring barely 350 square miles. However, one could view things a little more lighthearted - like Billy Wilder did in his comedy One, Two, Three, released only a couple of months ago (December 1961): http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4GV99MVUnFA

Anyway, we are heading out to Berlin on a Pan American flight, Clipper 692. It will depart München/Riem airport at 12:30, and will arrive at Berlin/Tempelhof at 14:25 - unless those damn Communists shoot the plane down. ;p




While we are already seated in our seats, a USAF technician suddenly enters the cockpit with a rather mysterious crate. He unpacks its contents, and bends out of view, while the crew look on. For a short few moments the men converse in hushed tones, before the technician leaves again, this time with a seemingly empty crate. Apparently, even here the Great Game continues...



This small intermezzo behind us, the crew continue their checklists, and soon the aircraft taxies to the runway and takes off. Even though the two cities are just 255 miles apart, our journey will cover over 400 miles, this due to the Corridor system in use. This requires our plane to fly from Munich to Nurnberg, on to Wurzberg and so to Fulda, where it will enter the Southern air corridor to Berlin. These corridors are only 20 miles wide, with altitude limits set between 3000 and 10000 feet - all to be strictly adhered to, unless one wants to get shot at.



Having climbed to 12000 feet for our first leg, our DC-6B heads out towards its first waypoints at Allersberg, Nurnberg and Wurzburg, before turning North towards Fulda. These legs bring us quite close to the East-German border, so the crew have to keep focussed on their navigation.



Past Nurnberg things become rather busy, as we enter the airspace around Frankfurt. Clipper 692 cross paths with one of its colleagues on the Berlin-Frankfurt route, as well as a MATS Connie on its way from Berlin to one of the USAF bases in the West. And once we get near Fulda, our DC-6B turn into the Southern corridor.



Descending to 9000 feet, Clipper 692 tunes in to the beacons which mark the corridor. Undoubtedly, some other things are going on as well in the cockpit, but nothing we passengers should know about.



Some 60 miles out, Clipper 692 begins receiving its instructions for the landing at Tempelhof. Manoeuvring into place, the aircraft turns north over the British sector before turning towards Tempelhof airport.



As our flight approaches the airport, we can see several of Berlin's sights out of our window, such as the Tiergarten and the Dom... even part of the Wall. Looking to our right, we see another aircraft closeby. It is a BEA Viscount, on its approach to runway 9R - we are on the approach to runway 9L.



As our plane descends, it gets ever closer to the roofs of the housing blocks beneath us... Until suddenly we cross the boundary road of Tempelhof, already flying lower than the roofs of the buildings surrounding our approach. With a jolt, our aircraft touches down on the runway. The engines rev up again, their props put into reverse, and the Clipper soon comes to a halt and turns off the runway.



With its inner two engines shut down, the DC-6B taxies towards the gigantic terminal building. There it parks up along a line of other airliners and MATS cargo planes. Looking at our watch, we realise our flight has managed to arrive ten minutes early - all the better, as our next flight will leave Berlin in some 40 minutes' time...



Next time: cutting things close on our return flight West...
 
And a good 45 minutes after we've arrived in Berlin, we're already departing again - this time for Frankfurt. Since we're having a connection there to Düsseldorf which is scheduled to depart just 15 minutes after our arrival, things are going to be tight...



Our flight to Frankfurt is Bealine 705, which is being flown by one of the company's older Viscount 701s. Since their introduction into BEA service now 9 years ago heralded the start of the turboprop era, these Viscounts have changed the face of passenger transport worldwide. However, now they are being gradually taken out of service, to be replaced either by the newer Viscount 800 series, the Vanguard or the Comet 4B.



On taking off, we're surprised to find the winds have shifted so much, that our flight takes off in the opposite direction of our landing less than an hour ago. Taking a last look at the monumental Tempelhof terminal, we head out towards West Germany.



Of course, on our way out, our flight is subject to the same kinds of restrictions as our flight in - follow the corridor, keep above 3000 and below 10000 feet, and follow the ATC instructions. It's odd to think that these small corridors, the Berlin highway and the railway connection are the only things keeping West Berlin connected with the rest of the Western world... what an odd world we're living in.



On our way out, we cross paths with traffic on its way into Berlin. Separated by just a thousand feet, we encounter a Pan American DC-6B.



Approaching the Fulda beacon, our flight finally leaves the restrictive corridors and begins manoeuvring for its approach into Frankfurt. The captain informs us that due to the wind, we will have to approach the airport from the West; this means we'll be arriving about 10 minutes late. However, the connecting flights have been informed about this, so we will be able to board them as soon as our aircraft arrives.



Soon the city of Frankfurt comes into view. We pass North of the city, with the Taunus range between us and the airport.



Finally, our Viscount turns and lines up with the 7L runway; as we approach the treshold we pass a C-46 which is landing on the 7R runway. Eventually we touch down about ten minutes late; without any delay, the crew steers the Viscount off the runway and towards the apron.



As the aircraft parks up, we can see several other airliners waiting, some with their engine already turning, waiting for the passengers of our flight who have to make their connection. Not far from our Viscount is a Lufthansa CV-440, our flight to Düsseldorf...

To be continued...
 
Hello Okami,

I've been following this thread from the beginning and particularly enjoy the screenies, since I am a propliner fan (yes, I am from that era!). :applause:

But I am puzzled by your routings. Are you trying to get around the globe with a maximum number of stops? Or with the highest total flight hours? Please explain your logic! :icon_lol:

- H52
 
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