DISCLAIMER @TheAlmightySnark’s might want to avoid this post as it includes massive amounts of screens of awesome aircraft.
So what’s better than one aircraft that was retired a decade ago, from an Atlantic squadron, flying from a Pacific airfield?
Apparently the answer two.
My GIBbo and I stagger back through the gate of Panama Pacifico after a week well spent touring the finer, less fine, and down right unfine bars of Panama City with our intrepid tanker friends. I take comfort that A) The hotel room was not in my name B) I will imminently be not one, but three countries distant C) All hangovers end eventually, and 100% Oxygen can only help. I’m pretty sure I’m good to fly, even if I’m not the tanker crew staggered into the air a few hours ago, and we have a schedule to keep. Besides, I will not be out flown by a freaking tanker driver.
However as we step onto the flight line, I’m less sure of my sobriety. Sitting on the tarmac are not one but two Tomcats. I glance in my GIBBO’s direction and he nods, signalling he sees it too.
Turns out my buddy @klarsnow has also managed to acquire another example of the ultra-rare F-14B. Considering the dark sorcery and debauched acts I had to perform to get mine, I shudder to think how he got his. We quickly exchange info. He’s in area for… reasons? and he’d be more than happy to accompany on my flight to Lima. Never one to deny company, especially when they’re flying aircraft as beautiful as that, I happily accept.
We taxi out for something approximating a formation take off, though we agree not to push it to hard as the Panamanian weather has remained characteristically… tropical.
Tropical meaning rainy as heck.
Breaking out.
We regain visual once on top the muck, and Klar quickly rejoins on my wing. We turn towards our first way point, TCO, a few hundred miles almost due south. Speaking of which:
The plan is for a quick trip mostly south across the Gulf of Panama, then down the spine of the Andes, overflying Columbia, Ecuador, and Peru.
The first part of our jaunt is uneventful. We settled into a cruising speed of 400 IAS at 25000 feet. The weather steadfastly remains, but thankfully we’re far above it.
Klar switching to my right side.
Noticing he has mastered that rare skill of maintaining constant airspeed and altitude, I pass lead to him.
The sun is beginning to go down as we approach the Pacific coast of Columbia and our first way point. We’re close enough to pick up TCO directly on the TACAN, so we switch to that for a more accurate fix. Also of note: Mountains lurking on the horizon.
We’ve firmly entered the photographer’s golden hour, and I cannot keep my finger off the screenshot key.
GIBBO gets into the act.
Counting rivets.
We pass feet dry over Tumaco, Columbia, and begin a gentle right hand bank towards our next waypoint, Mayor General FAP Armando Revoredo Iglesias Airport (South America, amirite?).
Did I mention mountains? because holy crap mountains. Mind you we’re at 25,000 MSL
As we soar over the heart of Ecuador, Klar informs me that this is the point at which he must depart. He has Ecuadoran Presidents to indimidate things to do and Narco crash sites to create places to be. He punches his twin GE’s into burner, lazily passes overhead and rolls out of sight.
As for me, Peru and 660 NM flying distance lay ahead, as well as an evening air to air refueling and a night landing.
To Be Continued…