Comodoro Rivadavia (SAVC) to San Carlos de Bariloche (SAZS)
425nm, 3.4 hours (total: 6926nm, 35.4 hours)
the 'highlight' of the last four days in Comodoro, was a tour of the cement works. I never realised there were so many different types of concrete (and, if I'm honest, I never wanted to)! I'd made enquiries regarding planes for sale, and checked the local aviation press, with no results. Then one day John Cole flew in.
An easy going American, John owns a diesel DA40. "It's real useful in this neck of the woods, where avgas can be rarer than a sound head on new year's day". The Diamond Star was one of the first planes I flew after getting my licence, so, when John agreed to let me fly it to San Carlos, I jumped on the idea

As we climbed out, John was extolling the virtues of the Thielert diesel engine: It runs on cheap Jet-A, is more efficient - 5 gals per hour - and so has a longer range. It's also turbo normalised up to 12,000 ft. "Ah but.." I countered, "the diesels are notoriously unreliable..." John laughed, "Not this one!"

FADEC engine management means there's just a single power lever: push it forward to go fast, pull it back to go slow.

We cruise along at a comfortable 8500ft. Any higher and we'd be in the couds and need to file IFR, lower and we'd be too low, the Patagonian terrain climbing as we head into the mountains. At Esquel, a sharp right turn...

We're following the Chubut river towards San Carlos, when pthruppp pop bug bug bug boing! What the? "Holy smoke!" exclaimed John. "No, Black smoke." I said, craning my neck to see behind us.

With the engine running rough, John ran through the emergency checks. Nothing seemed to be showing in the dials - Ts & Ps all okay, and the engine revs were still up. Checking the map, we're not quite halfway between airports. We decide to press on, since although it's further, we're maintaining straight and level. If something's failed in the engine bay, a steep turn in the mountainous valleys could well make things much worse. We put out a pan call, to explain our position.

Almost immediately I begin regretting this decision. I'm not quite sure if we're losing height, or the mountains are rising to meet us. Oh and the barometer is also falling! It's most disconcerting. Meanwhile the engine is coughing and spluttering, and I'm sure our airspeed is a little less than it was...

It seemed like an eternity, but It can only have been 20 minutes, and we're out of the mountains. Soon a lake is visible on our left, and we start looking for the airport on its shores. "Diamond zero alpha, you're cleared straight in, runway 29, number one". Truly welcome words.

As we approach the airport, the engine finally gives up, and the sudden silence is almost deafening. The prop, windmilling away, comes to a stop just as the wheels touch the runway, and the aircraft quietly rolls to a halt.

Now, can anyone give us a tow to the apron?
