Our route for Sunday was simple: Málaga to Shoreham with a stop to refuel in Périgueux-Bassillac in France. We’ve been using Périgueux as a refuelling stop for a while now: the people are friendly and there’s never a queue for the pumps and so we get a fast turnaround. I noted that I didn’t have a Destination post for the airfield and made myself a note to write something on my return and quickly made a cheat sheet.

I have a form that I fill in for every airfield that we’re expecting to stop at. I verify the details each flight; it’s proven very useful to have the print-out on my clipboard for fast reference of all our stops in addition to my normal flight plan.

Location: Périgueux (Bassillac), France
Date: 6 August 2009
Sunset: 20:23 local

Airfield: LFBX
Website:
Phone Number:
ATC Tel: 00 33 5 53 02 79 75
ATC Fax: 00 33 5 53 02 79 78
PPR: No
Hours:
Frequencies:
Aquitaine Approach 119.275
AFIS: 118.775
Runways: 11/29 1750×30
Airfield Elevation: 328′
Circuit Height:
Fuel:
Weather Info: LFBE BergeracMeteo·Mobile | Metar LFBE by aviador
Divert: Angoulême or Bordeaux

Google Map View: Périgueux Bassillac

I only found half the details for Périgueux, they don’t have a website and the AIP is somewhat lacking in detail. However, as it was only a quick stop to refuel, I wasn’t that bothered. We knew that they had AVGAS and a very active flying club, so there wouldn’t be any problems.

Cliff flew the first leg and as we approached the airfield, he informed Aquitaine that he’d be switching to Périgueux information. Aquitaine politely pointed out that there was no one there for us to speak to.

“It’s always been manned before,” I said, nervously. Usually, Cliff rings the airfields as a politeness measure but it had been so hectic the day before, he hadn’t notified Périgueux directly. Not that it mattered as PPR wasn’t required, but it was a bit of a shock to hear that they were closed.

“Sunday in France,” muttered Cliff. “Everyone is asleep on a Sunday in France. I checked the NOTAMs, the airfield is open and fuel is available so it doesn’t much matter.”

We arrived to find the place was busy, a glider, two small planes and a model aircraft all preparing for flight in the beautiful sunny weather. I sent 15-year-old Connor to find someone to ask about fuel, thinking it would be good practice for his French studies. He found a friendly looking pilot near the club and asked him “…petrol?” with his best smile. It was a success, in that the pilot came to our plane to find someone who spoke passable French (Cliff, not me).

“Of course there is fuel,” he told us. “The pumps are automatique.”

We nodded happily as he reassured us that there would be no problem filling our plane and continuing our journey. “You just need a TOTAL card,” he said.

Wait, what?

He explained that you put the card in – only the one specific popular-in-France fuel card – and then the machine would turn on and we could dispense the fuel. And if we didn’t have a TOTAL card? Well, in that case, the machine would not turn on. He gave us a gallic shrug and wandered back to the club house.

“What will we do?” wailed Connor, convinced we’d be trapped in rural France forever.

We did not, as you may have guessed, have a TOTAL card. However, we had plenty of time and 30 gallons of fuel in each wing, 225 litres in total, so it was hardly a tragedy. Cliff needed to phone Air Traffic Control to close the flight plan anyway, so while he was speaking to them, he asked if Angoulême was open so that we could go there to refuel. Oui, Monsieur, Angoulême is open and has fuel, yes, they accept all major credit cards, not a problem at all.

We piled back into the plane and made the short hop to Angoulême where we were told to go to the Flying Club and speak to someone there.

“Of course there is fuel,” he told us. “We run the pumps at the weekend on behalf of the airfield. You pay us and we put it on our account.”

That sounded fine until the man explained that he had no means of taking any credit cards at all. “The fuel company, they take credit cards but they are not here on a Sunday,” he explained. “I can put it onto my account and they will bill me but I can only accept cash.”

We pooled our finances together and found that we had a total of 17.63 euros which hardly seemed worth turning on the pump for.

Cliff got on the phone again and this time asked for advice as to where we might get fuel, in France on a Sunday, where we could use a credit card. La Rochelle, said the helpful man at ATC.

“Will you please contact them directly and verify that they are open, that they have fuel and that they will accept my credit card today?”

The gentleman took it with good grace and came back to us in a few minutes, confirming that La Rochelle did accept credit cards, even on a Sunday. Another 20 minutes in the air (the weather was crystal clear and the views were gorgeous, which made up for a lot) and we were at airfield number 3. Although we had to wait until Easyjet had their fuel before we could get ours, the young man was very helpful and more than happy to take our credit card in return for a few litres of AVGAS.

Who knew that France on a Sunday could be so exciting!

I’ve not been flying so this week I’ll leave you with an excerpt from a Piper Flyer article, where I recount one of my first experiences with flying into military airspace in France.

You can’t fly very far in Europe without flying through military airspace. In the UK, in fact, it’s something to aim for, the military controllers are exceedingly helpful and always patient, which is not necessarily the case for the civil airfields. But still, I felt nervous, convinced that the slightest misstep would get me shot down out of the sky. I had visions of men with missiles watching a black screen and my little aircraft ending up being an unlucky blip in the wrong place. “Intruders in the north east quadrant! Scramble! Take ‘em out!”

But I couldn’t argue against crossing Cazaux for our flight from Oxford to Málaga: it would keep us along the coast (no chance of getting lost!) and our flying time would be reduced by over half an hour. My (French speaking) boyfriend had phoned Cazaux on my behalf the day before and asked if the area was active. He was told no, no problem and we would have to make contact but we would be able to cross.

So it was a bit odd that Cognac sounded surprised when I stated my intentions. He blustered for a moment and then told me to call Cazaux directly.

An older voice responded to my call with an almost sexy accent and blissfully fluent in English. I smiled at the radio and explained that I wanted to traverse his airspace.

His response was calm and friendly. Were we aware that there was bombing activity along our proposed route?

Well, er, no.

I’m not one to argue with bombs about but Cliff was a bit annoyed, having called the day before. “Ask if you can cross anyway,” he insisted. It seemed simpler than going back to Cognac and trying to explain what had happened.

Amazingly, I got a positive response. The controller asked if I was willing to take direction from him to lead me through the airspace.

Not a problem. I made sure that he was aware that I was flying under Visual Flight Rules and told him I was happy to follow his instructions. I could understand him perfectly. It was a bright day with a clear horizon. There was only him and me on the air. And I wouldn’t even have to navigate. Great stuff.

Then he started giving me directions.

“I need you to follow the ring road.”

“The, er, ring road. Standby.”

I zoomed in on the GPS, sunglasses tugged off so I could see the lighter lines of the roads. Meanwhile, Cliff grabbed the map tucked away between the seats and re-folded it to for our general area. Our French friend became impatient.

“November 666 Echo X-ray?”

I couldn’t see anything vaguely ring-shaped.

“Affirm, I’m trying to find the ring road, Echo X-Ray.”

Cliff cursed. “He must be in Bordeaux!” He waved the map at me, drawing a U around the city with his finger. “Look, right here! That road goes around the west of Bordeaux but it doesn’t show on your navcom map until it is clear of the built-up area. He’s taking you east.”

I looked at the map and then made the call. “Would that be the E70?”

“The ring road. You see it? Follow it to the junction, then follow the A62 towards Langon.”

I looked out the window for a moment and then back at Cliff.

“He knows I’m in a plane, right?”

The GPS was close to useless now. The physical map showed the roads but only gave the E-numbers (European references) which the French don’t use. Without Cliff, I’d have turned around and hightailed it back to Oxford. But with the help of the village names, we were able to spot the junction on the ground and follow his route. I followed the road around and then leaned into the turn at the junction.

“Sylvia.” Cliff and I have a long-standing agreement not to criticise each others flying whilst in the air. I sensed he might be about to break this agreement.

“Look, you don’t have to follow the cloverleaf exactly. You can just head southeast from here. Please.”

I forget sometimes that he suffers from motion sickness. I straightened the plane out and called the controller.

“I have turned southeast onto the E72. I have Langon in sight. Can I proceed direct south?”

“When overhead Langon, proceed direct to Mont de Marson.”

I sighed. Either I had to learn how to spell French names or he had to learn to use compass headings. I looked at the GPS and then again at Cliff.

“I think he might be taking ‘visual’ a little bit too seriously,” said Cliff. He showed me the map. “Its due south from Langon. Want the road number?”

I glared at him and proceeded to follow the roads.

“November 666 Echo X-Ray is overhead Mont…” I had to stop and look at the map again. “Mont de Marson. May we continue south to leave your airspace?”

He sounded almost disappointed as he bid us a pleasant onward journey.

Strasbourg has two airfields serving the city: Entzheim (LFST) and Neuhof (LFGC).

Neuhof (LFGC) is much more convenient for the city but has a number of restrictions. It is not a customs airfield. There is no air traffic control and the radio is in French. The runway is 819 metres of grass.

I didn’t get a chance to worry about the radio or the runway length; we were flying in directly from England and so needed to go to a customs airfield. This made LFST a no brainer.

For general details, see the links in my Flying in France post.

Note: Do not rely on other people to gather information for you – and for the love of safety don’t rely on my notes being correct for your flight! Always verify all details yourself.

LFST Strasbourg Entzheim

Phone Number: +33 3 88 64 67 67
Hours: 24 hours

Frequencies

ATIS: 126.92
Ground: 121.80
Approach: based on entry direction:
119.45 (East)
120.70 (West)
119.57
FIS Reims Information: 124.10

Online Information

Website (no general aviation information)
VFR Plates

The weather was not very good and the cloud was low. In the end Cliff flew us into Strasbourg IFR (another good reason for LFST) but as you can see it was a lovely landing!

If you are lucky enough to have time to spend in this beautiful city, then I can highly recommend skipping lunch and having one of the Sauerkraut dinners at Maison des Tanneurs in Petite France. And for personal friends who read this site: Tony says could you please take him with you when you go.

One of the common routes that we fly is between South-east England, where we both have friends and family to Málaga, near our home here on the South Coast of Spain. We have it down to a fine art as we’ve done the run so often, the planning almost takes care of itself. We generally stop for a layover in Bordeaux: fast refuel and on our way if it is just the two of us, an overnight stop with dinner in St Emilion if we have guests (those people in the back, traditionally referred to as passengers).

Málaga is not the most VFR friendly airfield – VFR is banned at night and on weekends – so it’s the leg between England and France that I tend to draw the straw for. This has the additional benefit of getting us straight across the channel at the point of my choosing, rather than having to follow the airways.

I’m not sure why I feel quite so insecure about flying in France – the main issue, I think, is not understanding what the other conversations are about, so I feel cut off and isolated. And sometimes, well honestly, I just do not understand what a controller is saying and I haven’t a clue how to deal with it if “Say again” doesn’t cut it. So while I’m home and not flying, I thought I’d actually focus on France and what knowledge I can collect to help myself. I find it so exciting to see the amount of websites, aimed at people just like me, sitting at a desk, hoping to be in the air soon.

A clear starting point is checking for NOTAMs for the date of my flight which I can now conveniently do online at the UK AIS Website (free but requires registration). The narrow route brief has a handy form where you can fill in your route and flight date and receive details of potentially relevant NOTAMS.

Then a brief refresher for the water crossing: a PDF created by the Royal Navy: How to fly across the English Channel – Safely with some background information about the danger areas.

Before crossing over to France, it’s a good idea to review the French Air Traffic Rules and Services (PDF in both French and English) or at least read Francoflyer’s brief explanation of French VFR Rules for UK pilots. One thing we do to make life easier is to mark 50N on the GPS as that is edge of British airspace.

Although I have no intention of speaking French on the radio, the Francoflyers list of French Radio calls looks useful for getting a better understanding of what’s happening around me. Meanwhile, I have a list of FIS contacts en route so that I can always get an English speaker for help, in case I end up in trouble.

We’ll need Olivia for the second leg of our flight. I wish we could file the incoming flight using Olivia, a great example of using technology to make things simpler instead of more complicated. The French AIPs are not quite so conveniently found online but most airfields have their own website and you can look up airfield plates at French Aeronautical Information Service (enter the airfield or code at the bottom of the page).

With that, I’m ready to go. What can possibly go wrong now?