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After a quick breakfast we were given a lift to the
club where we packed and prepared the trikes for the flight to Luanda. It started to rain so we had enough time to file a flight plan, pay landing fees and get our passports stamped.
Just after 10am we said our goodbyes to our great
hosts and friends and headed towards the coast and Angola. I felt quite apprehensive not knowing what to expect. At some of the places on the coast we headed out to sea by about 2km and stayed at 4,000ft to ensure
that no one would take a pot shot at us …. or if they did, it was unlikely that they would hit us. Low level there was a headwind, but climbing up to 4,000ft we found a tailwind and stayed there for most of the
flight.
We both experienced carb icing. The first time during
a flight that the engine kicks from carb icing I always get a huge fright, even though I know that there is no danger and I just have to pull the carb heater lever to stop the icing. Nonetheless, I still have my
heart leap into my throat for a few seconds. What happens is ice forms inside the carburettor and then a piece of ice breaks off and goes into the engine making it kick and stutter for a second.
As we got closer to Luanda I realised that we were
about to fly into a very busy airport because the radio was very busy and it took a while before there was a break in the radio calls so that I could talk to the ATC. The ATC found a gap in the traffic for us to
land on the second runway, while aircraft were lining up and taking off on the first runway. At least half of the aircraft at Luanda were Russian Antonovs.
We taxied to the airport buildings where about 30
people surrounded us. There was someone waiting for us – Patrick's cousin had phoned him from Pointe-Noire and asked him if he would help us in Luanda with the clearances etc. Olivier and Patrick disappeared to find
us hangarage.
After parking the trikes Patrick took us to the Hotel
Paris where we had a beer before a shower in our very basic room. At least the sheets looked clean. Later we walked around trying to find a reasonably priced restaurant.
It was fascinating to see what has become of this
once magnificent city. Luanda is actually a very big city, lots of big buildings, millions of people. We could see that in the early seventies the city must've been really pretty – the shoreline streets, the parks
and the buildings – but now it's in a real mess. There was stinking, rotting garbage piled up everywhere. Almost no streetlights worked. Kids played in the streets around the garbage, women sat in the shadows on
little boxes on the pavements with their few wares in front of them on the ground, trying to sell just a few things every day to get enough money to survive. In the darkness everywhere there were people sitting on
the ground or broken furniture or on piles of masonry and garbage, talking and drinking and smoking. And then every now and then, in the mess and poverty, an expensive 4-wheel drive utility vehicle would pass,
winding it's way around the small potholes and slowly bumping through the big holes in the road.
We ate steaks and drank a beer in a Spanish styled restaurant.
While walking back to the hotel there was a power cut
and the city was plunged into darkness. There was a general cheer from the kids playing in the street as their game came to an abrupt end. Ahead of us a few lights started to shine as the auxiliary power in the
buildings took over the lighting. In all the mess and poverty, we never felt threatened or uncomfortable about our security … saying that we were of course very aware of our surroundings and the people around us and
were ready to fight or run instantly.
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