February 2012
Charter & Travel
  • Airvan Africa sales trip to Nambia and Botswana reveals this practical aeroplane's great qualities.
  • 1 February 2012

  • By John Miller

  • I can't think of a better way to cover a three-nation trip and enjoy the journey than in an Airvan. Sure, it's unpressurised, it's none too fast and doesn't have the range devouring fuel capacity of some much faster singles. But when agent, Patrick Hanly of Airvan Africa drops an invite into your mailbox, I knew from past experience pride of place in the cabin was going to my Nikon because the Airvan has huge picture windows and travels at just the right pace to take in some of Africa's most beautiful wilderness areas.

    It's not the first time I have accepted an invitation like this from Patrick. In 2002 I went along on a similar odyssey to Botswana. In those days, Airvan was a new and untried concept and selling the aeroplane was met with large measures of skepticism by charter operators, who had long been pummeled into economic shape by the aviation schools of hard knocks. Salesmen with a briefcase and a new type of aeroplane to show off are barely given the time of day in these remote tourist areas.

    Botswana, nine years later and Patrick is welcomed by everyone and Maun has since become the Airvan capital of the world. A car in Maun and accommodation at one of the most upmarket lodges in the Okavango Delta is placed at his disposal and anything new is eagerly scrutinised by enthusiastic operators. There have been a few minor hitches as we are to discover, but today, Airvan is a firmly established brand accepted by operators, pilots and maintenance companies alike.

    If Airvan Africa were to have a map of Sub Saharan Africa on its wall, pins, symbolising the location of operators, would reveal both the company's successes as well as its gaps. Also for reasons I'll discuss, a noticeable empty space exists in the old German colony of Namibia. First port of call however, is Stellenbosch, which provides a handy launching spot to fly up South Africa's inhospitable west coast. It is the first time the Stellenbosch flying community has seen the new turbocharged version of the GA8 and in order to show off the aeroplane, Patrick has shrewdly planned to arrive on the day the club holds its famous Tuesday pub night.

    The lengthy flight is not just a sales tour. The GA8 TC-320 owner, James Thompson and his wife Liz, are also along for the trip. James is an enthusiastic conservationist with his own sizeable game lodge and farm in the Eastern Cape. He is also a long-time owner of a pampered Piper Chieftain as well as a pristine Bell JetRanger helicopter. The Airvan is perfect to support his wildlife interests and provide transport to visit various bush destinations. It is his second GA8 and the flight to Namibia, Botswana and home again is a chance for James and his missus to take a much needed break from their frenetic transport business.

    Cape Town is a tremendous tourism magnet and Table Mountain is one of the world's most photographed and visited wonders. The region's competitive charter industry has traditionally relied on expensive rotary winged aircraft to give tourists a unique aerial view of the cape. An Airvan would offer a more cost effective method of taking in the scenery and allow more passengers than the four limited to a Bell JetRanger, one of whom is obliged to sit with stooped head between two others in the back. As always, the Stellenbosch Flying Club pub night is an opportunity to meet old friends and acquaintances and it's easy to linger in the bar until late. The club goes out of its way to make visitors feel at home. Patrick is well known to many Stellenbosch flyers - some of whom have bought Mooneys from him. One of them is Alistair Chalmers, CEO of container handling specialists, NFS Industrial Machinery. Alistair, like us is headed for Namibia, in his aeroplane the following morning and his help in threading our way through Cape Town International's customs and immigration would be invaluable.

    Following a restive night at one of Stellenbosch's B&Bs, we're up early and ready to load and set off the short distance to Cape Town's main airport. These kind of cross-border trips show up ACSA's complete inability to grasp how aviation works in the real world. Cape Town International at least has a friendly approach even though we and Alistair's Mooney are obliged to park under the tail of a Boeing freighter on the cargo ramp. There is no cognitive understanding of GA ops amongst ACSA management. Our pair of aeroplanes represent both tourist and business activities - in particular, the Mooney crew, who are responsible for some major machinery exports as well as being an important employer in their market sector. Their transit through an important transport hub is attended to as an afterthought involving a long and time-wasting walk through the airport's myriad customs and immigration tiers. The concept of having to unload and re-load private aircraft under the same conditions as a commercial airliner is absurd, especially when passengers and crews are challenged to surrender sharp objects and fluid containers over 250mls. When it's realised the Airvan holds a couple of oil bottles in its cargo pod, because the commodity can be impossible to obtain in some African countries, the picture is easy to imagine.

    Four hours and 14 minutes after leaving Cape Town, we're touching down at Luderitz in Namibia. The stop is important as we need to refuel in order to reach Walvis Bay safely. Patrick and James had wisely come back on the power, taking advantage of a stiff tailwind to keep our groundspeed up. The flight had been lengthy but completed in calm air. It had also presented a unique and fascinating view of the west coast as we cruised steadily off the beach. There was a lot of sand to see as we flew along the diamond mining areas and past Port Nolloth and Alexander Bay before arriving at a windy Luderitz. Patrick had been on the phone to Luderitz's fuel station the day before. They had assured him there would be at least 200 litres for the Airvan to proceed to Walvis with a healthy reserve in case of fog. There was only 70 litres.

    The misinformation regarding fuel forced a diversion inland to Keetmanshoop before we could resume our leg to Walvis Bay. This was an important safety decision as Walvis, as many SAAF Shackleton crews will remember from the bush war, can quickly go IMC with sea fog, leaving few diversion choices. We eventually touched down at Walvis Bay after eight hours in the air and one uncomfortably turbulent leg to Keetmanshoop. The scenery as we progressed over this southern part of Namibia was awesome, especially as the sun went down and the light enhanced the remarkable landscape, which was easy to capture through the Airvan's big windows.

    Walvis is where Mooney owner, Wayne Hart, runs his fishery business. Wayne kindly organised a hangar and car when we arrived. He also organised our stay at The Oyster Box B&B, which overlooks the town's shallow lagoon and is within walking distance of the well-known and distinctive restaurant, The Raft. The establishment is built on wooden poles recovered from a dilapidated jetty and is one of a handful of rustic eating establishments on the lagoon. With a trip into the endless coastal desert that included the last vestiges of abandoned dwellings at Sandwich Bay, we turned our back on this remote town to fly to Windhoek. Windhoek is Namibia's capital city and it also represents what Patrick believes is an Airvan vacuum. Convinced their clients want to spend as little time as possible in aeroplanes, the local tour operators like to utilise one of the world's largest fleets of aging but swift Cessna 210s. For larger groups and heavier weights a number of Caravans and dwindling collection of piston twin Cessnas are used to convey tourists to some very remote lodges. Patrick has been welcomed to Windhoek with tremendous hospitality but as yet no orders. There is very little to prove regards the Airvan's maintenance needs and flying qualities - he needs to find a customer to inspire others to follow. The turbocharged version is certainly more suited to hot and high operations and if the Namibian owners can satisfy themselves that speed isn't always everything when traversing their beautiful landscape, one order into the country may well start a trend. Windhoek's major maintenance providers, Westair had invited a number of visitors to see the new turbo Airvan and had provided snacks and drinks to welcome possible Airvan operators. Amongst them was Wilderness Safari's Mark Berry, who likes to explore an aeroplane's operating manual with a level of attention to detail Sherlock Holmes would be proud of. If Mark is going to recommend his company place an order for an Airvan, he wants to make sure it will perform as well as the brochure claims.

    Namibia as a nation was built on the back of general aviation. It's far reaching pioneers made widespread use of light aircraft to open up the hinterland to development and to provide health care and schooling to remote areas. GA was also key to the nation's commodity riches and the current civil aviation administration seems to have forgotten its vital role. Like many countries, the long reach of a clumsy and uncaring ICAO has done little to enhance general aviation and as much as it can to restrict the industry. From what used to be an open and industrious activity, GA has been fenced in and hampered by punitive costs and largely unnecessary security barriers. The country's airports authority has managed to make transport by small aircraft like walking in mud. Rather than geared for the betterment of its people, the Namibian DCA appears more ready to satisfy the bureaucrats in Montreal than enabling travel by air to return to its efficient former self and is not far behind South African parastatals with is lack of grasp of aviation matters.

    The flight to Maun from Windhoek in an Airvan was three hours and ten minutes. Two hours out of Eros, we pass the desolate dwellings of Omawewozonyanda, close to the Botswana border. The location doesn't even earn a mention in Wikipedia but does have a pair of dirt runways and a school. We cross into Botswana north of the Kalahari town of Ghanzi and observe the featureless floor below us. The lack of any interesting ground features encourages me to unfold my laptop and tap away at an article and archive some photographs, taking advantage of our comfortably turbulent-free cruise level as well as the expansive Airvan's cabin. I place a cushion on my lap to provide a stable platform for the computer, glancing up every now and then to monitor the desert.

    Sehithwa and Lake Ngami drift past on our right hand side and it's time to begin the descent. Maun ATC, refreshingly accommodating to light aircraft, places us on an easy right downwind for their brand new runway and we touch down a couple of hours after midday. The frenetic day's charter activities are at their quietest around this time,with tourists departing and arriving from the Okavango Delta either in the morning or later afternoon to meet the regular Air Botswana connections to Gaborone or Johannesburg.

    We clear customs with none of the usual suspicion and self importance administered by many other international airport officials. The staff at Maun are used to seeing happy faces and treat their life-supporting visitors good naturedly. Maun would barely exist without the co-operative mix of commercial airline and GA and their integration is an example many other airports should follow - in particular, South Africa. Almost every Maun government official knows the importance of both aviation sectors and over the years have built a respect and understanding of their mutual needs.

    Peter Sandenbergh meets Patrick in the terminal building's concourse. Delta and Oddballs Camps in the Okavango are owned by Peter as well as the charter company that serves them and others: Delta Air. Delta Air operate three Airvans - three of 12 based in Maun. Operators are so far extremely happy with them despite a recent problem with Hartzell propeller governors, which grounded a small number of aircraft within a serial number range. The propeller governor problem arrived immediately after one of the Okavango's deadliest accidents with ten Cessna Caravan passengers and a pilot losing their lives after takeoff. Patrick's arrival in Maun during late November was timeous and ultimately resolved the issue after spending some late nights on the telephone to the Australian manufacturer, themselves hamstrung by a less than spritely response from the US propeller maker. The problem had been known about for a while.

    Peter had also asked one of his top pilots to accompany us to Delta Camp's short 560 metre airstrip. A couple of weeks before, a Cessna 206 had come to grief there, thankfully without injury to passengers or pilot. Englishman and instructor, Jim Rowley, who had built up a great deal of experience after three years of Okavango operations kindly agreed to come along and with him riding the right seat, Patrick made a textbook landing on the dirt strip.

    The sudden change from a modern light aircraft with a flat screen primary flight display and brand new digital navigation system to a Mekoro dugout canoe was profound. Even the wheelie luggage had to be manhandled between the strip and vessels. The delta is one of the world's last truly wilderness areas and the modern accoutrements of man's first-world comforts are entirely out of place in this wonderland of unspoiled nature. With an additional dugout assigned the cargo, we were poled for 45 minutes between Oddballs and Delta Camp, taking care not to disturb a gathering of wallowing and easily upset Hippos in the Boro River.

    After settling in and enjoying supper, everyone retired to their mosquito-netted rooms open to the bush. The camp's guides, all raised in the villages that surround the delta, escorted us in the dark, mindful of the potential risks of encountering browsing elephants and Hippos - even big cats. There's little to do after dark except go to sleep. Although a generator pushed electricity through to each room, the open air layouts attract many insects when the lights are used and some inevitably crawl of fly through small gaps in the netting. Reading a book is a daytime activity rather than after-dark and for insomniacs there's much sounds of wild animal movement once the sun goes down and throughout the night. I awoke to the munching and huffing of a pair of elephants not two feet away from the raised room platform. One of them simply gazed at me as I sat up and tentatively reached for my camera to record this amazing sight. They continued to sweep the ground outside with their trunks and reach up to the overhead branches in an effort to gather mangosteen berries.

    I joined Patrick to fly to Maun the following morning. There were a number of operator meetings he needed to attend as well as talk to a couple of companies with aircraft on the water for delivery. The first Maun airline arrival was an Air Botswana ATR 72 turboprop and it disgorged its passengers for onward connection with flights into the delta. Most were tourists and all of them were met by tour company representatives in the terminal building before being led out to the main apron towards their Cessnas and Airvans headed for the various camps. The tarmac is busy with baggage handlers, tour guides and pilots and a non stop queue of small aeroplanes arrange themselves before the Avgas pumps opposite the main terminal. To watch general aviation and a scheduled carrier co-exist is almost musical to aviators continually harassed by ICAO-imposed security measures. At Maun, tour guides can meet their clients and escort them from the terminal to their light aircraft.

    Patrick not only stays in touch with Botswana's Airvan operators, he also goes to considerable lengths to make sure adequate maintenance facilities are in place. This means having engineers trained to look after the type as well as have the country's civil aviation authorities satisfied the GA8 is being looked after safely. Part of the Maun trip was to award nine Aircraft Maintenance and Certification Standards passes to Northern Air's engineering team and to one member of the local CAA. Rather than simply hand over the certificates, Patrick turned the occasion into a brief ceremony with pictures taken for the AMO, their staff and the regional aviation media. Selling Airvans is not just about closing deals and establishing a maintenance standard but also about keeping the aeroplane before the public eye and promoting it favourably to potential owners and pilots.

    There are few folk in the business of selling new aeroplanes as humble as Patrick. He's well liked and trusted by his customers and he's also diligent regarding paperwork standards and can be relied on to give straight answers to awkward questions. Airvan Africa does not hide behind a corporate shield and being the boss, Patrick is aware that when he makes a promise he needs to keep it. His strategy and trusting customer relations have seen the Airvan thrive in many parts of sub Saharan Africa. Prevailing with a brand new type and enjoying a significant fleet expansion from zero to 24 aircraft in nine years and in a specialised market sector is a record new aircraft sales companies would envy. There are a number of further areas for Airvan to establish itself and Namibia is just one sizeable potential market. A few more sales at home would also go down well with the energetic Port Alfred dealer.