Postcards

Touring New Zealand by air

Have you ever dreamed of flying over the most beautiful terrain on Earth? Renting a well-maintained airplane for less than you pay at your local FBO? Then hop on an airplane to New Zealand for what I promise will be one of the most enjoyable flying experiences you will ever encounter.

All of my New Zealand flying adventures have begun at the North Shore Aero Club. North Shore Aero is located outside of Auckland and is one of the largest flying clubs in New Zealand. My instructor, Ian Young, explained that to fly in New Zealand I needed a New Zealand pilot license. Since I already held a U.S. pilot certificate, all that was necessary was to complete a flight review, which, as here, consists of one hour's ground instruction and one hour's flying.

After completing my flight review, Young completed my New Zealand pilot license application form and faxed it to the Civil Aviation Authority. Ten minutes later, my "temporary" New Zealand pilot license arrived via fax. Imagine the FAA acting that fast!

For our first cross-country flight, my wife, Mary-Anne Cameron, and I decided to fly south 300 miles to Wellington, the capital of New Zealand. After completing the preflight on our Piper Archer — tail number Juliet-Charlie-Victor — we climbed in and departed.

The countryside below was magnificent. The Tasman Sea was on our right, its waves breaking against miles of deserted beaches tucked against endless cliffs. To the south and east stretched dark-green landscape with countless hills, valleys, and small streams. There were no other aircraft to be seen and we heard no one on Christchurch Information, the flight service station that serves the entire country.

Caught up with the stunning scenery, I had forgotten to make my first position report. I called Christchurch Information and hastily stated, "Archer Juliet-Charlie-Victor, overhead Raglan 4,500 feet tracking to Wellington." Christchurch Information replied, "Roger, Auckland QNH 1026." Mary-Anne, who is also a pilot, and I were stumped. Neither of us had any clue what Christchurch Information was trying to tell us. I asked, "Christ-church Information, uh, what exactly is QNH?" This garnered the reply, "For you Yanks that means 'altimeter setting.'" I guess my accent came loud and clear through the radio....

As we traveled south the terrain changed to uninhabited dense forests, rugged undulating hills, and impossibly twisting streams. The coast jutted to the west as New Zealand's large western appendage, Mount Egmont, came into view. To the left were the three volcanoes that stretch north to south in the center of the North Island — Mount Tongariro, Mount Ngauruhoe, and Mount Ruapehu. Tongariro and Ngauruhoe are dormant, but Ruapehu is quite active. When I lived in New Zealand, Ruapehu dramatically erupted; its ash cloud closed down all air travel in the North Island of New Zealand for a week.

After another hour of flight we were approaching Wanganui, our first stop. Wanganui proved to be a "typical" New Zealand airport. The airport consists of a single paved runway. While there are a few small hangars on the field, ours was the only airplane to be seen. The terminal was a small building with the sign "Wanganui" on top. Inside we saw the Air New Zealand counter where the sole agent was completing the paperwork for that day's single flight. The only other occupant of the terminal was a very pleasant elderly man who ran the snack bar.

After lunch and refueling, we left Wanganui and rejoined the New Zealand coastline southbound. The rugged terrain gave way to wide sandy beaches baking in the February summer sun. To the left the land was wide and flat, consisting mainly of green fields populated by cows, sheep, and crops. In the distance the mountain ranges of central New Zealand could just be seen.

The beautiful desolation of our flight was giving way to the population centers around Wellington. We were cleared through airspace controlled by New Zealand's largest air force base, Ohakea, and arrived at Paraparaumu. Paraparaumu Airport is the general aviation airport serving Wellington; it is a busy airfield, at least by New Zealand standards. While nontowered, it is surrounded by a box roughly five miles square; all aircraft within this airspace are required to transmit position reports every 10 minutes. A single, very loud beep immediately following your transmission is proof that the automated receiver, at least, heard your position report.

It was now time to contact Wellington Tower. Wellington International Airport is known locally as the "aircraft carrier." It is a single 6,000-foot-long strip with water on both ends, Wellington Harbour on the north and Cook Strait on the south. The airport is bracketed on both sides by hills; the terrain on the west is 784 feet agl and to the east, 617 feet. While the airport is at sea level, it is easy to understand why pattern altitude is 1,500 feet.

Contacting the Tower, I was cleared to enter Wellington airspace "1,500 feet or below." The terrain between me and the airport averaged 1,000 feet, with the highest terrain shown as 1,585 feet. Executing the slowest descent of my flying career, I waited until I was over the Hutt river before reaching 1,500 feet. The Hutt river led the way south as it meandered through the northern suburbs to Wellington Harbour and the airport. The views of the city, with its thousands of homes perched precariously on innumerable hillsides, the harbor ahead bristling with sailboats and cargo vessels, and the ocean beyond were magical. My wife was as busy snapping pictures as I was busy flying the airplane.

It was amazing to see the Tower vector a Boeing 737 past me just off my right wing; it was even more surprising to hear in my headset, "Juliet-Charlie-Victor, cleared to land, caution wake turbulence." The GA ramp is on the west side of the runway and is served by a single turnoff (no taxiway) only 3,000 feet from the numbers. Tower wouldn't be thrilled if I landed long to avoid wake turbulence and missed the turnoff. On the other hand, everyone would be even more unhappy if wake turbulence flipped my Archer on the runway. So I decided to fly a high approach and land just past the spot where the 737 touched down.

All was going according to plan until I had descended to 500 feet on final; the Tower asked, "What is your airspeed?" I answered, "70 knots," to which the Tower replied, in a very unpleasant tone, "Abort landing, minimum airspeed at Wellington is 90 knots." Executing a go-around, I was directed to fly circles around an island in the harbor as penance. Fortunately, the next time I was cleared to land there were no large aircraft immediately ahead of me; I flew 90 knots, touched down on the numbers, and exited onto the ramp without incident.

After a pleasant evening catching up with friends, it was time to travel onward. We decided to fly back north and visit Taupo. Taupo is located in the middle of the North Island and is one of the most famous tourist destinations in New Zealand. Lake Taupo is a beautiful large lake formed thousands of years ago when a volcano erupted and then collapsed in on itself, filling with water. It is just north of the three "conventional" volcanoes — Tongariro, Ngauruhoe, and Ruapehu, mentioned earlier — so the flight from Wellington to Taupo promised to be spectacular.

After refueling and preflighting, we started the engine and called ground control. I was cleared to "depart Wellington northbound, maintain 1,500 feet or below."

While our route of flight promised clear skies, the immediate area around Wellington was a different story. ATIS reported broken clouds at 1,800 feet, visibility 30 kilometers, wind 20 knots gusting to 30. A visual observation revealed worse weather than reported on ATIS. Wellington Harbour often acts as a trap for clouds and today was no exception; the hills at the north end of the harbor were enshrouded in thick layers of rolling clouds. A VFR departure did not seem possible given the constraints of my clearance.

Studying the sectional, I was struck with an idea: Depart northbound, turn 180 degrees at pattern altitude, and fly south. Once past the south end of the runway, turn west, fly across the harbor to the west coast, and follow the coast north. Once we were past the hills of Wellington, the weather promised to be clear and we could turn inland and head direct for Taupo.

I called Wellington Tower with my suggested departure and was pleased that it was accepted. This satisfaction gave way to concern, however, as immediately after takeoff the turbulence started. Juliet-Charlie-Victor felt as if someone was outside the airplane smashing it with a sledgehammer. Upon reaching 1,500 feet I set the rpm at 2,100 to ensure that airspeed would remain, at least on average, at V _A and turned downwind.

As we rounded the airport and headed up the west coast the turbulence became more intense. The wind, coursing down over the hills, caught us in a wicked downdraft. I asked the controller for a higher altitude and was cleared to 2,000 feet, just enough to put us above the coastal cliffs. The turbulence declined markedly.

As we reached the flat plains north of Paraparaumu the turbulence and clouds magically disappeared, leaving nothing but crystal-clear blue skies ahead. With Mount Ruapehu rising 9,125 feet above the surrounding terrain and visibility reported at 80 kilometers, navigation was effortless.

While small, Taupo Airport was more active than Wanganui as it is home to the largest skydiving club in New Zealand. Mary-Anne and I enjoyed watching the jumpers floating down like colorful handkerchiefs on the wind.

From Taupo, we departed and traveled northward to the coastal town of Whakatane. The terrain below was primarily cultivated forests dotted with tiny settlements. As we approached Whakatane we could see White Island offshore in the Bay of Plenty.

White Island is the most active volcano in New Zealand. It constantly puffs sulfurous smoke and boasts a boiling lake in its center. The exotic nature of this island intrigued us. After landing at the airfield we met a pilot who flew sightseeing flights around the volcano. He indicated that such flights are perfectly safe as long as one remained upwind and above the sulfur cloud. This sounded easy enough, and after a short break we strapped on our life jackets and headed 27 miles offshore to White Island.

White Island, upon our arrival, looked like something out of Jurassic Park. The terrain was primeval and the smell, even well out of the cloud, provoked thoughts of what the beginning of time must have been like. The twisted vegetation, lichens, and moss that survived in that witch's brew of sulfurous fumes added to the other-worldly appearance of the place.

After our tour of White Island we headed west across the Bay of Plenty, crossed the Coromandel Peninsula, and saw the beautiful volcanic islands of the Hauraki Gulf with the skyscrapers of Auckland and the Sky City Casino beckoning in the distance. We were home.

At the time, the cost of this adventure was $130 per hour wet in the local currency; at press time the aircraft rented for $165 wet. The New Zealand dollar cost 48 cents of one of our dollars when we were there, making the $62.40-per-hour rate a real deal; exchange rates have since increased to 72 cents to the dollar. In U.S. dollars this aircraft now cost about $118 per hour to operate — in line with aircraft rental costs in the United States North Shore Aero Club imposes no daily minimums for multiday rentals, allowing complete freedom to travel around the country as much or as little as you please.

There is much more of New Zealand to explore via air, including the majestic mountains and desolation of the South Island and the Southern Alps. This is the goal for our next flying trip in New Zealand.

Thomas W. Tripp of Tequesta, Florida, holds New Zealand private pilot license number 53760 in addition to his U.S. certificate.

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