Sorry people, this blogging takes far too long to make look nice. It says its all so friggin easy to do this that and the other... Easy if you are a computer geek I suppose.. So here is the rest of it. I'll try and put the photo's on when I worked out how.

Day 2, 23^rd June 2014. Inverness.

Today I fly up to Wick. But on the engine ground tests I found that when I turned off the left mag to test the right magneto the engine stopped? Dam… A dead mag? This could be a serious problem. One I didn’t need for inconvenience, time and confidence. Back on the pan I took the cowls off and got access to the magneto and coils. All looked alright. I took of the right Magneto cap of to find the brand new rotor arm had disassembled itself and destroyed the internals of the cap on its way. I took the left cap off to find that the left arm was about to do the same thing!!! I had been lucky. It could have stopped at any moment, meaning a forced landing, one of which I would have most likely written the aircraft of and possibly done a lot of damage to it and me… Shock set in I suppose. I’ve used up all my good luck that I’m going to need to get around the world, during the first flight.

What is more. These are approved parts that have broke.. If I can’t get to the bottom of why these parts failed, I can’t go on my journey. Its stopped even before its started… XXXX!

I phoned up the agent, discussed it with them and ordered two more caps and arms. The agent guaranteed this problem had been resolved and the new parts that would arrive would be ok… Free of charge as well… Considering I could have just made an aircraft shaped whole in the ground, I thought they should be…

Itzy went into the hangar, since I wasn’t going anywhere soon and I was shown the code to the door. That was it for the day. I might as well return to town.

Back in town the Hotels were mostly full and the cheapest I could find was £85. I’d begrudgedly paid £40 the night before.  I might be away for some 100 days. At an average of £60 a night, that £6,000.00 just on accommodation. I can’t afford that. So after McDonalds I got back on the bus to the airport to go fetch the tent, pitched it in a near by field and got my head down.

Day 3. 24^th June 2014. Inverness,

Introduced to the maintenance staff of Highland Aviation, I helped them change two cylinders on a Piper Warrior, well helped enough to not feel guilty about Itzy (my aircraft) being in their hangar and then proceeded to put my mountain bike together. Needed to cycle in to town and acquire epoxy resin to bond on the new rotor arms when they arrive. This could be bought from Caley Marina at the end of the Caledonian Canal. I cycled there, bought the resin and some other stuff from town and cycled back. It almost killed me. Having not ridden for months due to the extensive preparations being done. I’m so unfit…

Day 4, 25^th June 2014. Inverness.

I’d spotted a decent bike shop by the canal, so went back there to buy some new brakes for my bike. They old ones had seized up. While there I thought I’d ride along the canal to Lock Ness. A beautiful ride out but too far. I fell off as well, so back in town with a bloodied knee, I got on the 11A bus with my bike. Back at the airfield, the parts had arrived and I bonded the arms in place and fitted the caps. It needed 18 hors to set. I’d leave tomorrow.

Day 5, 26^th June 2014. Inverness to Wick.

The engine seemed fine. I waved goodbye to everyone who had been so kind and flew up to Wick. Here Andrew Bruce of Farnorth Aviation, who is famous or synonymous with Atlantic crossings and ferry flights of light aircraft, spared no end of time answering my questions. He laughed at all my poor quality safety gear and said I might as well not bother taking it. I saw all his points but knew in my mind a way around all the issues he rose. Truth be told though, I asked him if he thought I was being an idiot. If he said I was being a fool, I honestly would have turned around and gone home, such is his experience and knowledge. I knew and had wanted to have this conversation what ever the outcome, even after years of planning. He smiled and just added, “Don’t ever be in a rush. Its pushing on into bad weather that kills people, so never be in a rush!”

Well today was too windy, so I went down town to get a new remote hardrive to store my video footage on, which looks brill already by the way. Especially beating up the club house and my parents in the lake district. I have a camera pointing out the bottom of the fuselage. It’s brill. The special durable hard drive I had specifically bought was buggered already. So Argoss came up trumps. I posted a load of stuff home as well which I already knew I didn’t need. Back at the airfield I spent hours on the computer in the airport terminal again before leaving when it closed with the tent out the plane and went to kip down in the camp site down town. Chinese and bed…

Day 6. 27^th June 2014. Wick.

Too much of a head wind today and I had lots of equipment failures to sort out already. The rest of the day was spent talking to Andy again and doing some last minute flight planning that I had yet still to do. Tesco’s for dinner, chicken Tika pies and strawberries and cream.

Day 7.  28^th June 2014. Wick to Vagar.

Ok, Paid fees and filed flight plans filed with Andy. I pushed the plane around the corner of the hangar out the wind to prepare. It was still quite a head wind up to the Shetlands but then as I turned out to the Faroes it might even become a tail wind. On with insulation layers under my apparently useless dry immersion suit, call it what you will. Caking my pants now actually. Supposed to be fun but certainly isn’t.

I taxied out and took off. There was John O’Groats and Wickenby Lighthouse. I wanted to go out via the Shetland to get a feel for it and in case of more engine troubles,  At the Shetland Isles I turned out for Vagar, the island in the Faroes with the airport on it. My 5,000 ft cruise height was a pain as that is where all the cloud was. But a helicopter was above the thin layer of cloud coming the other way. After it passed he descended and I climbed. When I poked out the top of the cotton wool cloud, shriek, my wins were covered in ice. I learnt all about ice in my commercial pilot training, never seen any before, and never wanted or expected to see it on Itzy. The kit plane didn’t seem to mind and it soon melted. I was handed over to Reykjavik control some 100 miles from the Shetlands. The radio was fine and transponder still working in range too. Brill. I didn’t feel alone. The Shetland radio guy had been calling me every 15 mins for a progress report. Above the cloud was peaceful and tranquil, only occasionally did I look down through it and see the white horses of the cold foreboding North Atlantic. Amazingly soon it was time to drop down below the cloud into an amazing scene of black rock of the Faroe Isles jumping thousands of feet out of the sea. I had to watch it as these Foroe Isle mountains went back up into the whispy broken cloud I’d just come down through…

There’s the runway. I was cleared to land, flew up a fjord and dropped it on the tarmac/ I taxied in and jumped out, finding it difficult to believe as everyone else did who came to se me arrive that, I’m on Vagar… Customs and immigration was a breeze.  The airport has a new terminal next to the old, only been open one week and everyone will still getting used to it. The hotel was full, high season, but one of the young security guards called Rhoiney, said I could stay in a flat his Gran owned and rented out, much cheaper than the hotel as well. Everyone speaks good English and Roony drove me to his grans flat over looking the sea and fjord in the town underneath the end of the extended runway. A shower and more computing. The TV internet I couldn’t get to work. There were some very sad DVD’s in the draw, and just for some back ground noise, Indiana Jones saved the day, before sleep….

Day 8, 29^th June 2014. Vagar.

It’s blowing a howling gale and there is a lot of rain between here and Iceland. No worries, I walked back up to the airport. I met Malik, a cool guy in the control tower, to discuss plans, I got Itzy refuelled with reasonably priced fuel and left Itzy to go sit it out in the terminal. Sat on the computer all day trying to catch up with photo’s to send to people and sort out my full of junk and slow laptop,

I stayed there till it about 4 o’clock before getting on the bus, like all the other passengers, to head for the capital Torshaun. I had two hours before the last coach back to the airport for the night. This might be my only chance of different scenery if I leave tomorrow. Two hours was enough to run round, see the old wooden town with turf roofs and check out the harbour and a Greek run pizza shop. The Greek owner said his shop was a success but he might have to close because there were drunken fights every night from the locals??? And the people were driving him mad having to listen to all their stress and issues? To proud to talk to fellow Faroese, but they would spill the beans to a foreign shop owner… Back on the coach back through more amazing scenery and deep long tunnels that took you under the see between the mainland and Vagar with the airport on it. I watched more passengers check in and disappear on the fleet of Airbus 319/s. Blimey it was 10 o’clock. I walked back down to town, takes about 5 mins. I dropped off my bag in the metal tin shack of a flat and perused the local port and harbour. Some guy was mowing his grass? It was 11.30??? Back at the flat there was a DVD of Asterix the Gaul, one of my schoolboy comic book heroes. It was in Danish, Dutch, Norwegian, Finish or Icelandic only though. So after 10 mins it was Indian Jones again.

Day 9. 30^th July 2014. Vagar.

It’s foggy and just awful. You can’t see far out to sea up the Fjord. The check in lounge is calling though and also the control tower for a break or change of scenery. I met Fleming in the control tower. Malic was from Greenland, Fleming was on a one year contract from Denmark. I learnt a lot about their procedures and about the culture from these guys.

Not wanting to outstay my time there I went back to the check in terminal and my chair, the only one near to a power point to plug in this laptop and the envoy of all other mobile or tablet users running around wondering where they could plug in.  I eventually broke the ice to another backpacker who sat down next to me. I never asked her name yet we spoke for hours about lots of things. She had just come off the ship the Orchid Shepherd or something like that. It was similar to Greenpeace’s Rainbow worrier, yet far more extreme in its confrontations. It patrolled the Island scaring off the pods of Long Find Pilot Whales that the locals would surround in the number of small boats and then drive up a fjord until the whales ran themselves aground right at the end and then the locals would wade in and slaughter them by cutting their throats, turning the sea blood red. This hunt called the Grindadrap was a tradition that had been going on for hundreds of years and was vital to the survival of locals of old and also useful for the local economy. I’d heard the locals mention this ship and their crew were not made welcome anywhere. She was an Aussie girl and we talked about global ecological issues and the meaning of life, until her plane back to Denmark where she was living with friends was got called for loading. Highlight of the day really, only just beating Indian Jones.

Day10. 1^st July 2014. Vagar.                                                                            

Fog, rain wind… In any order. Back at the airport Roony was on duty. He got me through security and drove me over to the control tower. I gave him another Kr500 for staying in the flat. We joked about when I would leave. The weather is due to improve but not enough today.

Checking in lounge, shop, flat, laptop, Indian Jones, you know the score, so do all the security staff and check in girls. I’m part of the scenery at the new airport now, why not, I’ve been there longer than some of the new employees.

Day 11. 2^nd July 2014. Vagar

Woke at 6am. The fjord was full of cloud. Went back to sleep. At least it was dry and brighter so I headed back to the airport. There were five airliners parked up. Apparently they had all just arrived as the wind was too strong earlier on. 65 knot gusts first thing this morning. That’s enough to blow most light aircraft away, yet Itzy had sat there through it all ok. Small wings and full of fuel saved the day. I decided to move him though as the blast from the nearest Regional 146 Airliner, as it taxied back out, could blow him away. Back in the control tower Malik was on Duty dealing with the four departing jets. Because of the delays earlier they were now all rescheduled and all now going to Copenhagen and they left, about 5 minutes apart. They could have all gone together and had a race…

So then more diary, more photos, more emails… No food… I stayed in the tower with Fleming, who had took over from Malic, watching Belgium eventually put out the USA in the football world cup, till about 9/pm. Just still sorting flight plans, looking at weather, writing emails, trying to get this blog or diary up to date. I learnt a lot more from Fleming. He pointed out the old control tower up on the hill that the Brits made. They made the runway actually as well and based 5,000 troops here to protect the Islands against German invasion during the 2^nd world war.

Rooney gave me a lift back down to the flat, I sort of promised him I would leave tomorrow. While writing this though, and watching Indian Jones the wind in the Fjord changed and grew. So much so it started roaring outside. Itzy was still exposed out on the field. I decided I had to go back to the airport at midnight, to pull him into the shade of a mound of grass just by the old terminal, where he survived last night. It was still light enough to see and the last delayed plane arrived as I did. It was an easy climb back up the hill to the airfield, well I got blown up it really. Anyway, the airport was still buzzing. With Itzy took back in by the shelter of the buildings, I had to wait an hour for it to stop sheeting it down before coming back. I’m now back in the flat again, feeling blown away. As I watch the end of Indian Jones the wind is continually roaring at what must be some 40knots, Its getter lighter again at 3 am and I can see down the fjord the driving rain coming in. I doubt I’m going anywhere again tomorrow, I mean today…

Day 12, 3^rd July 2014. Vagar.

I moved out the flat, shame really, went to the shop, walked the hill and sat in my seat in the check in lounge next to the power point. I was studying the weather closely using every means possible. Satellite, pressure charts, rainfall count, predictive forecasts. I might be able to go in a small window around 4 o’clock.  Flemming came through with tickets, he was flying in the cockpit to Stockholm and back, to see their approach procedures from the pilots point of view to help them when he was controlling them in the control tower.  Everyone is flying except me. Two nice people sat down next to me and we chatted for a few hours. Martin and Norma from North Wales. I had a great time chatting to them, swapping exploits and thoughts of the Faroe Isles and the lovely weather they had had??? Apparently on the north isles some 40 miles away, they had been baking in it? They said they had parked a hire car in the carpark, the company said to just leave the keys in it. They joked if I would want to borrow it or sleep in it tonight. I should have asked them what and where it was.

When they went to catch their plane I went over to the control tower to file a flight plan and pay the landing and parking fees. Filling the flight plan was like a kiss of doom as even though the route to Iceland looked clear and there were blue skies above the airport, low cloud appeared and laid in the fjord, which I could not fly through. This continued till it was too late in the day so I cancelled the flight plan, at which point the cloud cleared, as if on command. I took chance to look round the old control tower and then headed back to the check in desk. The airport would stay open late as the Linfield football team from Ireland were flying out in their charter plane at Midnight. They came they were loud and typically footballish and left.

The airport terminal was closing so I headed back down to my village of Sorvagur and sat under the porch of the town barn looking over the football field to keep out of the rain. Its now one o’clock and the kids are still all out playing. It is still light though, so why not. Town is pretty dead though. Has been all week. Chucking it down again now. This is simply not funny anymore… I’m almost up to date with the diary, except the batteries about to quit on my laptop.

I walked back up to the airfield, kipped on a table outside the porch of the old terminal building, wishing I was warm and dry in a hire car…

Day 13, 4^th July 2014. Vagar to Egilsstadir Iceland.

I ran back down to Soragur to the local shop, got some biscuits and drink for the day and ran back up to get warm. The airport opened at 8 and I walked over to Itzy to start preparing. I put my immersion suit on but as the cloud was still poor, I had a kip for an hour. Malik was in the control tower and with the weather clearing in an hour or so the satalite image said, I we filed the flight plan again. He said he would put the information on the departure boards as he did for every other flight. I shook hands with Malik and went over take a selfy of me and my plane at the top of the departures.

Jumping in Itzy, the weather did clear and I taxied out. Take off was on 30 and I headed out over Sorvagur. Stunning stunning scenery. I took video and photos and flue as close as I dare due to multitudes of bird life on all the jolting cliffs I climbed past. Ok time to set out. Only 2:20 of water. It all went normal, I said goodbye to Malik in Vagar 60 miles out and on to Reykjavik control. They could not hear me but I relayed some position reports twice via airlines way above when ever I could hear them clearly. 60 miles out I called Egilsstadir directly, they could not hear me and I had to descend now as there was cloud ahead. Egilsstadir relayed through another aircraft their weather. Few at 800, scattered at 1,500 broken at 2,400. Not good but ok.

Bugger, cloud ahead, I went into it. Only thin I hoped but down at 500ft above see level I was not happy… I thought of climbing again but turned around to go back out to sea where there was no cloud. Back in sight of the sea again I turned back in towards land. Being this low I had lost all radio contact with Egilsstadir because of the mountain ranges in-between us. Down at 300 feet I entered a fjord leading to Egilsstadir airport but the hills were 3,000 feet all around and the cloud was solid at 300 ft. I remembered to fly up one side of the fjord not straight up the middle as most people do. If you are in the middle if you want to turn around suddenly, say at the end, you have only either half the valley left or right to turn in. If you are to one side you have only one way to turn but you have twice the width to turn in. Back out to sea there was only one option available, that was to go 40 miles north, around the mountains and follow the river up a wide valley floor to the airport. Sea fog now rolled in and I was down to 100 feet This weather was not forecast and not fun or fair… I found the valley and could hear Egilsstadir calling immediately. I replied that I was ok and heading up the river towards them. The controller asked what the colour of the river was. Brown I replied. Good, apparently there are two, one being glacial blue and it leads into the glacier, the brown on e was correct and the runway was clear and only 12 minutes away.

I ran 12 mins at 200 ft above the beautiful river before the runway lights came out the gloom. I did two left turns and landed on their 04 runway.

As I taxied in, the emergency services were all driving away. Apparently since I was over due on my time they had been called… So embarrassing. First a medical examiner called Thora I think, came to check on me and sat me down to catch my breath. I was ok… Then I spent an hour filing a report with the police captain Davith and his officer. English was good here. We went to have a discussion in the control tower so they could explain there side of events, and with all that completed, the police said they would drive me now to the medical centre. It was procedure. I met up again with Thora and she joked about cutting off my immersion suit which was normal for these events. Admittedly I had to worn her of the fact that I had been in this air tight suit for about 6 hours now, before unzipping the shoulder seal and extracting myself from it. She took my blood pressure and heart rate and eye tests and vital signs were all normal. With this I was free to go. I have to pay for this and they are not open again till Monday, so here I stay till Monday… Dam.

Davith then drove me to a good reasonable guest house as all the hotels were full. They asked me if I had food, no being the answer, they stopped off at the supermarket. In the supermarket I met a camera man again who had been hanging around the airport. I apologised to him for being a bit rude earlier. He said he wanted to discuss with me the plane, I told him I could do it tomorrow, but he said it was too late really and that his report had already gone to the news station. Get out of here!!!

I came out with bread and ham for me and a couple of bottles of coke for the police. They then drove me about 2 kilometers over the river to the guest house as they said they were not busy... With the proprietor, he mentioned that he knew who I was as he had just seen me on the news… No way. I thanked the police, they were cool and settled in my room. A shower and more diary and Brazil verses Colombia.

Day 14, 5^th July 2014. Egilsstadir.

Left my room and went to find out how much it cost. The proprietor was a pilot also and had worked in the control tower some 20 years. I explained all about yesterday. When he heard that I had built the plane he mentioned wanting to build a Zenair aircraft. I know them well and we talked for what must have been an hour. The room was 100 Euros equivalent, He said no one could work out the Krona rate. I couldn’t. I explained the 100 night rule about staying in hotels and said I would camp tonight. He knocked 35% of the bill and drove me down to the airport as it was throwing it down again.

I made friends with everyone there and one of the girls had a birthday and I was offered cake. I explained what happened yesterday and they let me back out to see Itzy. I gave him a big hug and then set about drying everything out as the sun was starting to shine. I checked over the plane. Seemed alright, so set back off into town to set up the tent in the camp site. A lovely walk to the top of the foothills, gosh Iceland is beautiful and this apparently is the boring bit, before getting some much needed rest.

Its midnight and someone’s birthday party in the nearby town has just kicked off with Happy Birthday being sung over a loud speaker system. I didn’t understand the words but I understood the tune. Seems like since its still light, the locals never sleep. I suppose it makes a change from all the long winter dark nights. Oh gosh no… it’s a karaoke party…

Day 15, 6^th July 2014

Packed up the tent and walked back via the Information shop to the airport.

I’ve now converted Krona to pounds and found I have just bought a £12 map!!! They said things were expensive here, but really!

Sitting in the arrivals lounge at the airport where there is power and web, a couple of guys are waiting for a plane. The one is local your guide the other a rich American going on about how expensive his fishing trip for him and his mates will cost and about percentage profit and Icelandic business profiles. A plane arrived, and he said here there are, the plane is a Ferrari. I thought he meant it looked like Ferrari made it, but no, he told the tour guide it was a Ferrari. I had to put him right and called out that it was a Piaggio P180 Avanti. It was Italian but nothing to do with Ferrari. He replied that the engines then were made by Ferrari. I told him I couldn’t see how as they were Canadian Pratt and Witney PT6’s. It shut him up… I can’t stand people who bluff out duff info trying to impress…