Silence. Clear blue skies. Brilliant, dazzling snow. Pure air so crisp. cold and dry you can feel it clearing out your lungs. The rim of mountain peaks around the snow field makes it feel like the top of the world. Actually… it is the top of the world.
We’re standing on the Glacier du Trient at an altitude of 10,500ft. It’s on the Swiss side of Mont Blanc and close to the border with France. We’ve just landed on the glacier in a 25-year-old Piper Super Cub specially equipped with skis, and got out to stretch our legs and take the air.
We don’t go too far because there’s a very real risk of hidden crevasses which may be hundreds of feet deep. The snow is three to four inches of crisp crust and it’s just perfect.
The two-seat Super Cub is parked across the slope and painted several shades of bright orange and red – Breitling colours. The Swiss watch company paid for the paint job.The vivid colours leap out of the surroundings.
This has been one of the most fantastic day’s flying. Not just for me – even Blaise Morand, the Swiss flying instructor who has been guiding in and around the mountains, on and off the glaciers, says so. We’ve struck lucky with perfect mountain flying weather – little wind, clear skies, firm snow.
The wonderful conditions – best of the winter says Blaise – mean we’ve been able to land on this glacier at will. Not exactly touch and goes – you can’t do that when there’s a wall of rock at one end of the improvised runway – but land, ski-taxi to turn around, then take-off the same way we came in.
Not just this glacier. Yesterday we were able to fly in and out of the Aeschhorn glacier up near the famous Matterhorn. That was higher still at 12,000ft. The extra 1500ft makes a noticeable difference in both the performance of the aeroplane – engine and handling – and the pilot. We’re all noticing the thin air and lack of oxygen. Except Blaise, of course, since he’s born and bred locally and is the pilot equivalent of a mountain goat.
“This week. It’s perfect.”
We’ve been trying to set up this feature for several months. The weather had to be right, said Blaise, and one Monday in early March we got the call. “This week. It’s perfect.”
We dropped everything, flew out to Geneva Airport, then made our way round Lake Geneva, past Lausanne, up to Sion, a small town not far from Brig. The airport combines all types of civil and military flying, all hassle-free. An example to the world.
Here’s where the Groupe des Pilotes de Montagne, a section of the Aero-Club de Geneve, bases itself from October to April. Blaise is the president and one of 20 or so mountain flying instructors in Switzerland. He teaches a course which adds a rating to your PPL(A) and allows you to fly solo or with a passenger and land on the glaciers. The rating is recognised in Switzerland, France and Italy, and also allows you to land at mountain grass strips (in the summer) and altiports such as the famous one at Meribel.
We start with a briefing from Blaise in the cafe at the airport.
“It’s a very special discipline,” says Blaise who speaks much better English than my O-level French. “You need to be a good pilot, relaxed in the aircraft with good pilot skills and a clean, safe way of flying.
“The second quality is to know about the mountains. The environment is very special. We are flying very close to the wall of rocks. Sometimes pilots stop because they don’t like it.
“Quite often there is a strong wind and it’s very turbulent. It’s like a sport – you must be forceful.”
So sharp stick and rudder skills, get used to flying near rocks, and it might be bumpy. What have I let myself in for!
We take off from Sion in formation with another Super Cub flown by Pierre Zen-Ruffinen, president of the local gliding club and a qualified mountain pilot. He’s flying the cameraship. Our Super Cub has one big advantage – an extra 30hp over the standard 150hp of Pierre’s aircraft, and it’s also fitted with a four-blade prop to reduce noise. Both aircraft have long, under-slung silencers fitted. The Swiss like quiet.
Both aircraft fly smoothly along one side of the valley, climbing at a steady 70mph Indicated Air Speed. The airfield is at a mere 500ft so it’s a long haul up to 12,000ft. 70mph is the reference speed, according to Blaise. We do almost everything at that speed – climb, cruise, approach.
As we turn to fly between mountain peaks, we cross ridges at the approved 45-degree angle to allow us to turn away should we hit a downdraught, but there’s no wind today. If there was, we’d use the uplift on the upwind side of the valley to help the climb.
Then, suddenly, we’re in among the snow fields and we have to fly a big, wide orbit to gain more height. Some of these rocks are darn close to the wingtips. Ok now but if it was windy…
Circuits at 12,000ft
Blaise points out the glacier ahead. First, we fly a circuit at around 1000ft above the surface of the glacier. We’re checking the wind and getting a general feel for the site. We’re also looking for potential obstacles and the perfect landing/take-off area. It’s not just the lumps of granite that can spoil the day. The glacier is a slow-moving mass of ice and ice boulders as it heads over the edge of the glacier bowl and would rip off a ski instantly.
It’s not just the wind which has to be right. The light is crucial. Today is sunny and the surface of the snow is easy to read. As any skier knows, when it’s overcast and the light is flat, all sorts of dips, bumps and ruts can lurk unseen. We can see a wave-like pattern on some of the snow and that’s to be avoided says Blaise.
We descend to 500ft for a second circuit, this time inspecting the surface more closely and judging the slope. There are 25 glaciers available to the mountain pilots and all are different and change constantly. This time we’re picking our exact point of touchdown and the track we’re going to roll – ski – on. “Choose the longest with no rocks. The take-off roll must have no bank (side to side) slope,” says Blaise.
A third pass at just over 100ft above the surface and effectively we’re now downwind. “We must be very precise,” says Blaise.
“We must stay calm,” says the voice in my head. The nervousness is building, and I can feel my fingers tingling, ready for the landing, even though I’m only following Blaise on the controls for this first landing.
“Blimey, we’re close to the mountain.” This thought, as we hug one side of the glacier bowl, is quickly followed by surprise at the amount of power we’re using. The tacho is showing 2200rpm, IAS is 70mph.
Blaise lowers the flaps – another modification which Super Cubs don’t usually have – and we’re flying right at the glacier. Of course, we’re not descending, the glacier surface is on a slope and it’s rising to meet us. This was all in the pre-flight brief of course, but it’s just clicked. Doh! I knew that!
As we sweep in over the snow, aiming for a point where there’s already some ski tracks, Blaise reduces the power to 1800rpm, raises the nose just a tad, and we touch down at around 40mph IAS. True Air Speed at this altitude is around 50mph.
Skiing aeroplane
As soon as we’re down, Blaise pulls the stick back to keep the nose high and keeps the power going. We don’t want to slow down because we’re on a 30-degree upslope. There are no brakes of course so we ski on under power to a relatively flat area at the top of glacier. Skiing an aeroplane, another first!
Blaise guns the engine, boots in hard left rudder and we carve a lovely turn in the snow and head downhill. There’s no mucking about here. Stick hard back, full power, still carrying some flap, and we aim for the edge of the glacier. Don’t even think about engine failure.
Fortunately for me, this is quite a large glacier and we’re off and flying long before the edge. As soon as we’re airborne, Blaise relaxes back pressure on the stick to put the nose down and build up air speed. We head out into then open valley, circle and position ourselves for another approach.
Time and again we practice the approach and landing. Touchdown is smooth. For some reason I’d thought it would be bumpy. Landings and take-offs are always three-pointers with the nose high – the last thing you want to do is catch a ski-tip in the snow. Yee-ouch! That’s another reason why we drag the aeroplane in under lots of power, to get the correct aircraft attitude set up.
I’m surprised how well the Super Cub handles in the thin air. I’d expected it to wallow around and feel like a drunken marshmallow but no. It was accurate, smooth and felt very safe.
It’s also a very strong and simple aircraft, with little to go wrong. The controls are from another era, with a stick between your legs, throttle is a knob on the left window ledge sliding forwards and backwards, and the rudder pedals are simple metal bars. The flaps are operated by a typical Piper ‘hand-brake’ lever, with another lever down by the side of the front seat to pump up and down the hydraulically deployed skis. Skis for snow, wheels for tarmac.
Fuel-efficient
Despite the aircraft’s age, it’s in lovely condition. There’s nothing tatty about the airframe – far from it – and the well-silenced engine runs very smoothly. There’s hardly any vibration or noise, just a hint of exhaust gas and petrol hanging in the air, just like a classic car.
The Super Cub is also fuel-efficient which matters when you may have quite distance to cover going to and from the glaciers and there’s nowhere remotely safe to put it down. It’s precisely for these reasons that mountain pilots love it.
According to Blaise, the only other aeroplane that’s any good in the mountains is the Swiss-built Pilatus PC-6, a turbine powered seven-seater.
We return to Sion for lunch – this is the French part of Switzerland, remember, and they have their priorities. Later, we set off for another sortie to catch the evening light. The valley floor is in shade, but we soon find sunshine up at 12,000ft, snow-capped peaks all around us in this winter playground. I have to pinch myself. It’s so special up here.
Another session of landings and take-offs but I’m aware that we’ve had the best conditions. To get the mountain rating, you must experience all types of flyable weather and log more than 250 take-offs and landings.
Finally, we make a full-top landing and get out of the Super Cub on the glacier. Another of the Groupe de Pilotes ‘planes appears. He’s also seen the weather is perfect and is out for a jolly. Then a Cherokee also painted in Breitling colours circles around the glacier bowl, taking a good look at the three aircraft parked on the snow. He’s not fitted with skis so can’t land but it’s a great afternoon for a flight. These people are so lucky!
“It’s so different at this time of day,” says Blaise. There’s a bit of pet in him when he talks about his mountains. “At 11am it’s so violent.” He ‘s talking about the brightness of the snow.
It’s 1810 and we have to head back to Sion. Reluctantly, we climb back in the Super Cub, switch the fuel tank to the uphill right wing tank, and ski-taxi around to head downhill and home.
We’re in formation with Pierre all the way, except for when we zoom in and around the cols and peaks. “OK, so we’re a little bit crazy,” says Blaise. We land together, taxi to the pumps, and tiredness swoons over me. High altitude and adrenalin does that.
But it’s a fantastic feeling. Perfect day? You bet!.