.......gotta tell ya about Aqaba.....
We're tootling along in our Twin Com enroute Amman - Aqaba, it was already late because of the separation Amman demanded in between each of 14 departures, plus the farting around with Charlie Echo. So it's getting dusky, and we see from the Jepps that there is some interesting terrain in the way, directly prior to letdown. MSA something like FL65. We get a letdown to FL20, which my mate doesn't relish for some reason, so I tell Aqaba that we prefer to remain at safety level. Accepted. That means, hwvr, that we have a sort of kamikaze dive after passing said hills to get into Aqaba. In the dwindling light. At some point something tells me that Aqaba can speak super French, we were listening to others we had caught up with being talked down, but the fat controller was suddenly talking frog! Well, the first arrival was an aircraft flown by an Orly ATCO, who realised that some of the 14, mostly French, might need assistance. So upon arrival he sprinted up to the tower, grabbed the mike, and took over. Gawd knows what might have happened had he not done so. I recall the feeling of relief at seeing the curvature of the coastline and the glisten of the sea that marked the end of that epic journey. I wonder what Eilat was making of all of this!
Sean Connery had beaten us to it in 'his' BBJ.
Come time to depart, the proud airport manager tells us we are the first to use his smart new apron. Bit of tarmac surrounds this white expanse. One French pilot who always had to be the first taxies forward and turns on this lovely bit of tarmac. Whoomp! Stbd u/c falls in hole that Manager wanted to fill with lighting. Mooney is hauled out, bent straight, and frog plus wife depart without doing a cautionary circuit, to the north, turning left instead of right (obviously didn't want to climb until terrain reached on the right). Israel had a field day that day!
Another Frenchman who's English was....er....er taxied to the intersection, and was instructed to backtrack, so he did a wild 180 and returned to the apron where he turned right onto a gravel path along the fence, parallel to the runway. He disappeared over the horizon with a bemused airport manager in pursuit in his Landrover. Obviously found a way onto the rwy, as we heard the growl of a Cessna 337 departing. At least he did things right after that, except.......
....we all cleared outbound at Hurghada and were enroute to Rhodes. Said concrete mixer-driver was asked for an estimate for point X, somewhere near Cyprus. ....er....er...(it took him 5 minutes to give his callsign - familiar?)....er....so-and-so. What? calls the control authority, I forget which, you will reach point X in 20 minutes? Do you mean perhaps at so-and so - hours later? At which monsieur replies...er...er...affirm. Not a CLUE! But two hours would have been about right.
Rhodes was fine, except we didn't get a green ( a Twin Com has one green light, not three, for the undercarriage). So our landing was made with trepidation. Apparently, when you have certain lights on in a TC, the green u/c light won't perform.
I continued in a German C337 whose pilot offered to drop me off in Egelsbach and that, as they say, is another story.
Hope I haven't bored you.
g'night