The Flight that made the Headlines

THIS IS ABOUT A FLIGHT THAT NO PILOT WAS, IS OR WILL BE ALLOWED TO LOG
(At least for some time to come)

Monday, 19. July, 1976, 12:54 GMT
1. All flying in Israel is on QNH
2. All approaches in Israel in good weather are VFR

The Israel coast is broadcast on the weather channel as 3/8 low cumulus. The Tel Aviv tower controller asks for "runway in sight". Told him I was in cloud, whereupon he wanted to know the cloud base.
Cleared for a left hand visual circuit to runway 30 at Ben Grunion.

Tuesday, 20. July, 1976, 14:59 GMT
Flight Log from Tel Aviv to Elat
Programmed the on-board computer and set the autopilot to follow the standard published air route.
FL 90 EZN to BSA (Flying @ 3000 meters from the electronic beacon at Tel Aviv to the beacon at Beer Sheba) The Beer Sheba VOR (electronic beacon) is out of service.
No sand storms, no clouds on the radar
Advised by South Control to follow radial 175 BGN VOR until receiving ELT (Elat) VOR. When in contact with Elat Tower I was requested to report "the Tika Copper Mines" in sight.
I was on an Instrument Flight Plan, meaning that reports are made at electronically defined checkpoints, not landmarks. Being an authority-abiding Swiss, I humoured the unprofessional request and agreed to do so.
Well, my keen passengers finally made out a smoke stack below and shortly after pointed out a runway due north. The visibility was 6 km. I was asked to report the runway in sight and then on a right hand downwind to runway 03.
I now abandoned the safety of Instrument Flight Rules and crossed the airport to report downwind. Next, I was asked to check on final. On final the tower said: "Continue approach".
Before touchdown on an airport completely empty of aircraft, cars or people, I noted the threshold markings to be 02, not 03. Son Thomas, aged eight, looking at a flag waving on top the tower, exclaimed "That's not the Israel flag!" At that moment I realised I was about to be directed to land in Aqaba, Jordan. But it was too late for a go-around.
The distance between the two airports Is only 6 kilometres, yet they are worlds apart. The tension between the two countries Israel and Jordan was particularly acute at the present time, as the Mogadishu hijacking had happened less than a month ago. My last message to Elat Tower was that I had just landed in Aqaba. His reply came broken due to my low altitude: "Š.. (unreadable) climb to 3000 ft and report downwind" (!) A replay of the tape a week later at Elat tower showed him to have said: "Request permission to take off and climb ŠŠ"
I shut down the engines on the Aqaba tarmac then climbed up to the tower, from where I saw my pax surrounded by civil and military personnel. This made me run down the fire escape at top speed. I was immediately separated from the Seneca's passengers at the point of two pistols.
The first moment of danger came when the Jordanians misunderstood what had happened. We were all motioned by machine guns into a Jeep and brought to an office where we were searched for weapons. When wife Flo had to go to the toilet, she had to shoo off an Arab who wanted to accompany her. I explained that we were Swiss tourists and had mistaken Aqaba airport for Elat airport. For a short while the tension relaxed. They even brought us hot tea, cold water, a fan and some chairs, while an official cranked in Amman on the phone to ask for instructions.
Flo was weeping and the Arabs were very touched, trying to clam her in English with "Everything is alright".
Outside the office there were about half a dozen onlookers. My passengers now kept calm. Another dangerous episode occurred when I was again separated from the rest, this time to go retrieve all our passports - a rather awkward task for a man to search ladies' handbags. At that time I suddenly found myself in the middle of heated disagreement between the civil airport personnel and the military.
While the former understood the situation, the latter wanted to prove their efficiency in a situation of this sort. An excited soldier snatched my passport from me and ordered: "Come with me!", while the young airport manager said: "Don't listen to him". He then motioned me to the rear baggage bunk, where he pointed out friend Ruedy's Beaulieu Super Eight movie camera, asking me "Can I have this??" Expecting it to be some kind of release compensation, I said "Go ahead!". However, the camera must have been meant to be a sort of security token to keep me from suddenly escaping with the aircraft. Eventually, the military even returned the passports.
One hour and twenty minutes after the ill-advised "Cleared to land" from the Israelis, we were cleared to leave.
The night flight across the desert and bay to Eilat took 7 minutes. Upon arrival, we were welcomed once again by "security" rifles. The Israeli military made us taxi the aircraft at a remote spot of the airport. Shining their Jeeps' headlights on the Seneca, they made us search for a bomb in the cabin and under the belly. When the search yielded no booby traps, the welcome drinks were on the house. Again I was separated from my passengers, this time for an interview in the airport manager's office. The army, airport security, the tower controller-in-charge and a number of unidentified persons wanted to know exactly how and why it had happened. Later on, a reduced group was keenly interested to learn from me how many soldiers there had been and what weapons they displayed.
The only info to that account I gave them was that we had been treated courteously. I wrote a statement for the authorities and left to follow the rest in the hotel. Hardly emerged from the shower, when the phone rang: "Are you the pilot, who landed in Jordan?" The following conversation ensued: "I am that pilot."
"Can you give me your story?"
"Please come to the hotel."
"I can't, I am in Beer Sheba."
"Then call the airport of Eilat for more information. Goodbye".
This meagre exchange was nevertheless sufficient for three columns in the 21. July issue of "Yediot - Achronot" and one in "Ha'aretz" Three days following the exciting arrival at Elat, I went to the control tower and asked for a replay of the tapes recorded during their handling of my flight.
Unfortunately the time beeps were in Hebrew, but the tape clearly showed that I was handled as VFR (Visual Flight Rules) traffic despite my IFR flight plan. Moreover, a clearance to land was issued to an aircraft that was not in sight of the tower.

The following week a briefing in Tel Aviv with the responsible controller took place. Jeppesen and other avigation charts were consequently modified in order to avoid similar incidents.

To reflect some of the sun's radiation from the interior of the Seneca and her electronics N1544X was covered with half a dozen linens sewn together by the girls. They had adorned the tail section with a Swiss flag, visible from the air. "Just in case", they had said.

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