(DailyExpertNews) — The pilot, who is only inches from his passengers, reaches up and turns on the metal toggle switches that start his engines. Two propellers, visible through the windows on either side, spin noisily to life.
The plane sprints a few hundred meters through the gravel. Then, as the pilot pulls back on the yoke, it jumps into the air and begins to curve to the right in a wide turn on its own. Below, the soil slides away, to be replaced by aquamarine water.
Loganair flight LM711 is not the most comfortable experience.
Eight passengers squeeze into a cabin the size of a VW campervan. The engine noise is relentless. And there are no facilities on board — if you need the toilet, the only option is to cross your legs. Only there is no room to cross your legs.
And yet there is something very special about this flight that, if you didn’t know it before, you would realize it about two minutes into the journey. Since we are two minutes away, it is very unlikely that the plane is still in the air.
According to Guinness World Records, this is the world’s shortest scheduled service, a journey that covers just 2.7 kilometers in less time than it takes most passenger planes to reach cruising altitude. On a good day, with favorable wind and light luggage, it takes 53 seconds.
Taken two to three times a day, the trip connects Westray, an island on the edge of Scotland’s northern Orkney archipelago, with the smaller, even more remote island of Papa Westray.
Year-round it is a lifeline for the approximately 80 people who call the four square kilometer island home. In summer it also brings in tourists, mostly day trippers, who want to experience the plane and discover the many delights of Papa Westray.
The real start of the journey for visitors is at the airport serving Kirkwall, Orkney’s merry capital on the archipelago’s largest island, known as the Mainland. From here it’s a 15-minute flight to Westray for the last record hop.
It is in Kirkwall that they first climb into the boxy cabin of Loganair’s diminutive Britten Norman BN-2 Islander.
Aviation fans, especially those who manage to get their hands on the first of the four rows of passenger seats, will appreciate being able to watch a pilot at work. But you can’t choose where you sit. Allocation is based on an even distribution of weight over the aircraft.
Windy Outpost
The End of the Journey: Papa Westray.
Barry Neild/DailyExpertNews
Takeoff, after a concise over-the-shoulder safety briefing from the pilot, is a flurry of switches, dials and radio squaws. Watching the rotation of the analog altimeter and the slope of the horizon on the attitude indicator is almost as exciting as the view out the window.
However, the window view wins out. It’s early August, so a summer green patchwork of Orkney farmland alternates with teal Atlantic waters as we pass the islands of Gairsay and Rousay.
After only 15 minutes in the air, the plane lands at Westray Airport, a windswept outpost consisting of a small building, a gravel runway and a tarmac taxiway. There’s a short break to admit one passenger for the last, short leg of the journey, and then we’re off.
This is the record-breaking leg of the journey, a flight that is shorter than runway length at most major airports.
No need for screens on the backrest showing you the route map – you can look out the window to see where you’re going to land, even before you take off.
With the stopwatch running from the moment the wheels are off the ground, wind direction makes it a slow day for the world’s shortest flight. It clocks in at barely two minutes and 40 seconds.
The landing is another fit of excitement. We land on Papa Westray’s main dirt runway (two others have been cut to grass and wildflowers so we can land when the wind blows the wrong way), and the island comes alive around us.
There’s a fire truck on standby, manned by a couple of brothers who drop their jobs on the nearby farm for the duration of the plane’s visits. Once the plane has taken off, the woman manning the control tower dons a Royal Mail jacket and jumps into a van to deliver the mail.
As the plane’s engines disappear in the distance, the small airport falls silent, the only sound being the stiff sea breeze blowing through the orange windsock and looking out over the field. There is not much to see from here. The treeless island looks bleak and almost deserted.
However, it is not. Despite its size, Papa Westray, or Papay as it is also called, is truly a magical place.
Nobility or witchcraft?
The Church of St. Boniface.
Barry Neild/DailyExpertNews
There’s almost seven hours to kill before the return flight, but enough to fill it.
Ford begins with a drive around Papay’s only loop of road, introducing us to local stories and gossip as we pass islanders diligently taking advantage of the seasonal break in the rough weather they are often exposed to.
We pass caravans bricked in by cinder blocks to prevent them from blowing away. Island school (number of pupils: four — two nursery, two primary education). Small houses and larger farms. And acres of arable land lined with hand-built dry-stone walls, including one wall painted with red and white stripes to mark it as the end of a runway.
Our first stop is next to Holland Farm, the largest on the island, where a path through a field of cattle leads to the coast and an archaeological site known as the Knap of Howar, a 5,000-year-old farm that is said to be the oldest existing building of Europe.
It’s an extraordinary place. Wide open for all to explore are the ruins of two interconnecting rooms, sunken into the ground, in which families once lived before even the pyramids of Egypt were built.
Best of all, in one corner is a smooth mortar on which the former Knap inhabitants ground grains to make flour. Lying loosely on top, also smooth, appears to be the actual pestle that would have been used.
Holding something that might have been in someone’s hands in this place until five millennia ago is a real hair-on-the-back-of-your-neck moment.
The next stop on the tour is another historic site that dates back to the 8th century. St. Boniface is a restored chapel whose stepped gable architecture hints at Hanseatic influences from mainland Europe. In the lichen-covered graveyard is a tombstone whose inhabitant, Ford says, may be associated with nobility, or perhaps witchcraft.
Last of the great auks
Bye bye birdie: Tribute to the last of the great auks.
Barry Neild/DailyExpertNews
After lunch, look for wildlife on a walk through Papa Westray’s North Hill Nature Reserve, a coastal moor maintained by Britain’s Royal Society for the Protection of Birds, where some of the dozens of migratory species that frequent the island , can be spotted .
As we walk along the shoreline, followed by a curious gray seal, we spot kittiwakes, skuas and a petrel chick, which we keep well away from. This gull-like bird is capable of projecting a foul-smelling substance to ward off predators.
We also visit a sad memorial to the great auk, a large flightless bird that was hunted to extinction in the 19th century. A bird shot at Papa Westray in 1813 is believed to be the last breeding great auk in the British Isles.
Even during this short coastal walk, the weather is constantly changing. Blue skies are quickly covered by showery rain clouds. The light on the water floats from gold to silver. It’s a very brief taste of the mercurial temperament that, says Ford, is one of Papay’s main draws.
“I like that things are constantly changing,” he says. “But you have to be here for a certain amount of time to see that, and I like that I can be here all year round to see all the changes that take place, especially the birds that come and go with the seasons.
“I also like to experience the opposites of the year – the almost 24 hours of daylight in the summer, which has an amazing effect on your body, when you realize you can’t stop working. Everyone gets a little tense and you just don’t get tired.”
“That’s actually why I came here,” he says. “You really need that sense of community. I don’t think you can live off birds alone. I mean, you could, but…”
Side landings
Happy landings: Loganair’s pilots are used to dealing with rough weather.
Barry Neild/DailyExpertNews
As the final flight of the day draws near, it’s time to see the community in action at the small airport, where firemen Bobby and David Rendall are once again patrolling the runway in their truck.
Before long, the BN-2’s engines shut down when senior pilot Colin McAlister, a 17-year veteran of Orkney flying, hauls it in for another perfect landing – something he and his fellow pilots can do even in tricky winter conditions. says Ford.
“In the summer they can almost operate on autopilot, but in the winter they make their money,” he says. “I almost saw the plane land sideways.”
Regardless of the season, the plane is an indispensable connection to the outside world, says Ford.
The island has a slower boat service, but the air connection to Kirkwall means essential medical and social services can be reached quickly, plus things many of us take for granted such as hairdressers, cafes or jobs. For older children it is the school bus.
“It certainly helps me to see that there is another world outside the island,” he says.
With McAlister at the wheel, the plane is ready for the return journey. This time, with the wind in our favor, it’s a faster ride – close to the max speed of 150mph.
Once in the air, every moment brings new joy.
Again, there is the thrill of riding a small plane and watching the pilot deftly wield the controls. It’s wonderful to stare straight ahead and watch the horizon rush toward you. And above all, there is the beauty of Orkney’s land and sea.
And then, exactly one minute and eight seconds after our wheels left the ground, we’re back on solid ground.
On the way home, the world’s shortest flight is just a little shorter.