EXPERIENCES lake adjoining the hotel. A few saunas and steam rooms later, I boarded an old A300 flying in the service of our new employers, Khalifa Airways. This private company was set up in opposition to Air Algerie, the state airline. It didnt last very long, but I was there long enough to enjoy a few more experiences. In fact, it started at ALG, where I waited in uniform inside the airport to be collected by a security team to run me to the Sheraton Hotel, a nice place safely ensconced within the boundaries of the enclave, which also housed the presidential palace. I was warned not to set foot through the terminal exit, as it was quite possible that I would be taken as a western hostage, a favourite pastime in this war-torn country. After two hours, and with no way of contacting the airline or the hotel, I thought of taking a taxi. On leaving the building, a bearded fellow seized my suitcase, muttered taxi and set off. I chased him into a car park away from the building, thought better of it, and hurried back. Amazingly, and fortunately, a sympathetic real taxi driver had seen what happened. He told me to wait, and returned after 15 minutes with my suitcase intact and no gunshot wounds. He ran me the 15 miles to the hotel, for which I paid him handsomely (about $100, I recall). It seemed that communication had broken down between the company and the hotel, so nobody was aware of my planned late arrival. The hotel was excellent, and the trips to and from ALG were interesting, as we were taken on a different route each time for security reasons. Once at the airport, we were often disappointed by the low payloads we were to carry. On one planned four-sector day, my colleague Brian and I flew an empty 320 (zero passengers) to Hassi Messaoud, an oil town in the Sahara, well south of Algiers. We were then due to fly another ghost flight to Constantine, in the eastern mountainous region of Algeria. Brian thought to check on our payload planned for the return to Hassi Messaoud. Nobody had bought a ticket! So we sat for a few hours until the scheduled departure time. Again, not a soul. The fairly enjoyable nonrevenue flight back to Algiers ensued. After a while, passenger numbers picked up, and our routes took us to some The chaps in the tower used to estimate wind velocity from the one ragged air sock that hung near the building Aerial view of Benito Jurez Airport, Mexico City unsurprising destinations, such as Oran, Lyon and Lille, along with a place deep down in the middle of the Sahara called Tamanrasset. This is a main home of the Berbers; the men often wear bright-blue robes, which distinguish them from the black garb of the local women. Heat and navigation were major issues here, as well as inhospitable mountainous terrain. The Sahara is by no means flat. We were once very nearly caught out by an unforecast sandstorm, which had almost reached the field by the time we had completed a tight visual circuit and landed post-haste. The heat inside the aircraft became unbearable and, despite following the necessary procedures, our avionics heated up spectacularly. And we were blind, having stopped taxi-ing A turboprop passenger aircraft Antonov An-24 44 THE LOG Spr 24 pp40-46 Highs and lows.indd 44 16/02/2024 11:14