My alarm blared out at 0430, and by 0500 we were leaving the hotel. After the short drive back to the airport we were greeted by our handlers from Dnata who led us quickly through the airport formalities to Gate 8, and a waiting minibus to speed us back across the tarmac to Planey. Pre-flight went smoothly, and soon we had powered on the avionics to call for engine start and ATC clearance. This took a bit longer than usual because in this part of the world, two extra clearance numbers are required in addition to the flight permit. These are the ADC (Air Defence Clearance) and the FIC (Flight Information Center) numbers. On departure from Karachi these were provided to us by ATC after a short wait and I carefully noted them down. An “Air Defence Clearance” in particular struck me as an important thing to have in this part of the world.

Clearances received, we started up and called for taxi – Juliet, Echo and then Foxtrot to runway 25L. A moment’s pause at the end of the runway for engine run-ups, and then we were off, accelerating west before taking off and performing a long left turn around to the east on the PUNAM 3A departure, and on towards our flight-planned route. Our climb to FL090 was slow – we were heavy, and the warmer temperatures in this part of the world demanded a slightly shallower, faster climb to aid in engine cooling. It was still much better than when I’d come through in the summer, of course. In the cruise we had to keep the cowl flaps a few notches open now, versus being able to close them completely through Europe.

Forty-five minutes into the flight we passed Hyderabad, and could hear Iraqi airways flight 474 on frequency as they made their way from Guangzhou to Baghdad. Just under an hour later we were entering Indian airspace. We were unable to make contact with Ahmedabad control so, with the Air Defence Clearance loud in the back of my mind, I passed a message via relay by Qatar 8034 to let ATC know our position. Further on, we still couldn’t raise them, so passed our next position report via relay on 121.5 and were handed over to Udaipur approach.

The Udaipur controller was quite chatty, with many questions – he clearly did not have radar. “What is your distance from Udaipur? What is your radial inbound? What is your ETA? What flight level are you at? What will your routing be?” We answered all to his satisfaction and continued on through his airspace.

Although we had not partaken of the “Decent” brand ice-cream on offer the previous day at the Pakistan Air Force Museum, we did help ourselves to some “OK” brand nuts in the cockpit today. As we munched, Udaipur handed us back over to Ahmedabad who we could actually talk to this time, before we were switched once again – this time to Nagpur. They clearly didn’t want to talk to us as they responded to our initial call by telling us to contact Bhopal instead.

Four hours in now, we had burned 55 gallons of fuel, or exactly one barrel. Planey is thirsty in his first hour of flight, with fuel flows at takeoff and in climb exceeding 25 gallons per hour at times. We still had plenty on board, however; my main concern this trip had been having too much fuel, and associated weight, rather than any worries about too little.

Bhopal were just as keen as Udaipur on regular detailed position reports. They clearly didn’t have radar either, a hypothesis backed up by the fact that we could hear a HiFly airline on frequency being assigned to fly a full DME arc approach instead of simply being radar vectored. We continued on our way, next being handed over to Jabalpur as we watched an Egyptair jet overhaul us on the same track, 30,000 feet above. Jabalpur were working a departing A320, heading our way, and kept them down at 7,000 feet until we had both reported that we’d passed each other.

Jabalpur passed us over to Calcutta, who we’d be talking to all the way until the border with Bangladesh. Ben busied himself making coffee – he had inadvertently discovered that the extremely fierce heat available from Planey’s heating vents could heat a water bottle to very high temperatures, and was now attempting to harness this effect. He reported favourable results.

A little under seven hours into the flight we started the second transfer from ferry tank to left wing tank. As it pumped I used the Garmin InReach to get the latest weather at Chittagong. The airport was reporting 5 kilometers visibility with few clouds at 1,800 feet – far better than the 400m visibility that had been forecast, and which had had me prepare to divert to Dhaka if the need arose. Despite this improved forecast, it was still very hazy as we crossed Calcutta, with the ground barely in view.

Nearing Chittagong, we were cleared to descend to 3,500 feet as we began the standard instrument arrival that would lead us to the GPS approach for runway 23. Hordes of boats were visible moored by the city, which is the main port for Bangladesh. The airport came into view as we drew nearer, and I requested to change over to the visual approach to save time. This was approved and we entered a right downwind to land on runway 23.

Once again, airport reps were waiting to point us to our parking spot, this time at the very far corner of the apron on stand 10. As we shut down and opened the door I was immediately assaulted by a cloud of mosquitoes, the first time we’d even encountered them on this trip. Thankfully our excellent handling agent, Mohammad, came prepared and quickly dispensed insect repellant to us.

Turning my phone back on, I received an unfortunate update from Captain Jo in Malaysia who was helping out with our Thailand and Malaysia permits. Hat Yai, which we had planned to fly to from Chittagong. The day of our planned arrival was the same day the Thai King had now decided he wanted to fly to Hat Yai and the airport was to be closed to all traffic – not even parking would be allowed. Checking with Mohammad to see if we could leave a day later, the answer was no – usually only one night parking was allowed so three was already a stretch. I decided this was a problem for later.

The refuelers pulled up shortly after. The equipment here was yet another step down; a hand pump, and a dirty plastic pipe that didn’t properly fit on to the pipe, leading to a lot of fuel dripping onto the ground. I decided that we’d be using the filter funnel for all fuel transfers here, and it was a good thing I did, as the funnel ended up catching all kinds of debris in it. This was not from the fuel barrels, which were new and sealed, but simply dirt and detritus from the pump and hose. The guys manning the pump were friendly and helpful though, and refueling was completed satisfactorily. Customs and immigration were smooth, and our new company IDs worked wonders when requested!

We had been looking forward to Bangladesh for several reasons, and one of these was Captain Tashdique, an A330 captain for a local airline. He had spotted news of our flight on social media and had contacted me offering help and support. The level of assistance he gave was exceptional; as well as organising an amazing rate at the Radisson hotel and making the bookings, he had arranged for a top local plane spotter, Ridowan, to be present for our landing and get some great shots, including the one shown above. Although Captain Tashdique could not be there in person, he continued to offer advice and guidance throughout our stay.

Ridowan met us at the airport exit, and arranged an Uber for the three of us to ride to the hotel in. There we ran into a couple of his friends while checking in. For some reason the check-in clerk marked down my nationality as Iranian, but before long we were settled into our rooms and well fed in the hotel restaurant.

That night Captain Jo and I figured out the new plan; fly to Subang, near Kuala Lumpur, instead of Hat Yai. The flying club there would be happy to help us out. It was good to have things resolved, and I slept a bit better because of it!

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We were spending three nights in Bangladesh, but the next morning we were up relatively early again for a flight. This time though we’d be riding in the back – a trip on Biman Bangladesh airlines to the capital city of Dhaka. The reason for this was to meet my friend Brishty, a doctor in Dhaka who had added me on social media many years earlier for reasons she professes not to recall, and who I’d been good friends with ever since. We had never met in person, and it seemed silly to visit Bangladesh but not see her!

We took an Uber back to the airport, which was possible now that we had some cash – Uber in Bangladesh don’t accept payment by card. Check-in was extremely quick and soon we were waiting in the lounge for our flight. Our aircraft was coming in from Saudi Arabia, and making a quick stop in Chittagong before continuing to Dhaka. We settled into our seats for the short flight, and resigned ourselves to a lack of views – it was very hazy once again.

The flight was barely thirty minutes, certainly the shortest of this entire trip. We muddled our way through arrivals, where we were funneled to the immigration desks but then waved through when we showed our boarding passes with “DOMESTIC” stamped on them. Brishty and her friend Tauhid were waiting for us, and we walked a kilometer to a nearby mall to get coffees and plan out the day. First stop would be a famous local store, to browse some traditional souvenirs!

From here we found an Uber to take us downtown to Lalbagh Fort. This was not an easy task. Dhaka is a vast city with a population of about 24 million people in the metropolitan area and is widely considered to be the most densely populated urban area in the world. Traffic conditions are best described as “poor”. Drivers would accept the ride, then ask where we were going, and cancel. We solved the problem by using my Uber to call the ride instead, counting on the novelty value of a foreigner overcoming any reluctance to travel downtown. It worked.

Lalbagh Fort, originally known as Fort Aurangabad, started construction in the year 1678, directed by the Mughal prince Muhammad Azam Shah. He was called away 15 months later, and the fort remained unfinished when in 1684 the daughter of the new governor died there. Considering the site unlucky, the governor left the structure incomplete, dedicating part of it as his daughter’s tomb. These days the site features well-manicured gardens, open to the public for a small fee, most of whom seemed to be there to take photos for social media.

We wandered around doing much the same thing as them, admiring the grounds and the old structures. By now it was mid-afternoon, and we were all getting quite hungry, so we left the fort again and called a couple of rickshaws to take us to a restaurant. Ben and I were told to keep out of sight until a price had been agreed, to avoid the foreigner premium. The rickshaw ride was nothing if not thrilling, with the riders managing to squeeze them through impossibly tight gaps. Brishty was quite concerned that I was going to fall out, but I managed to keep my place and we arrived safely.

The chosen restaurant was Sultan’s Dine, and the main dish was Kacchi, a mutton biryani where the meat is introduced raw to the rice and they’re cooked together. Not being particularly adventurous, I opted for a chicken version. All was excellent and now that we were thoroughly stuffed, we called up another couple of rickshaws for our final stop of the night.

We started at the Central Shaheed Minar, a national memorial dedicated to Bengali Language Movement activists killed during protests in 1952. Bangladesh has an even more complex recent history than does Pakistan. At the time of Indian partition, the region was designated East Pakistan, becoming the most populous province in the new nation of Pakistan. Poor treatment of the region by the government in Pakistan meant that Bengali nationalism and independence movements prospered. Pakistans attempts to eliminate the independence movement, involving what became a genocide of Bengalis, ultimately led to the Bangladesh Liberation War of 1971. After initially supporting the separatists, a pre-emptive strike by Pakistan on the Indian Air Force led to India joining forces with Bangladesh to liberate the new nation.

More recently, in July 2024, there had been mass uprisings in Bangladesh against the government after the government responded to student protests with mass killings. This was made all the more real when we learned that friends of Brishty and Tauhid had been lost. The prime minister, dogged by allegations of extreme corruption, was forced to flee the country. Strangely, the niece of the prime minister was a senior member of the UK government and has been similarly forced to step down due to apparent involvement in her Aunt’s activities – I’m not sure I can understand why a direct relative of a corrupt foreign head of state was allowed to hold a senior UK government role in the first place.

We talked about the July events as we walked through the university where many of the key events had taken place, considering how lucky we are to live in relatively safe and stable countries where we are rarely called to put our lives on the line for what we believe in. Brishty and Tauhid escorted us back to our hotel before going their separate ways. Check-in was a bit convoluted as they insisted on seeing our visas, which we did not have. We eventually got a copy of the General Declaration sent over by our handling agent, which settled matters.

That evening I received a message from a First Officer at an airline called Air Astra, a new Bangladeshi domestic carrier with a small fleet of turboprops. He had heard about the trip, and told his CEO, who wanted to get in touch – would I be interested? I of course agreed, and minutes later was talking to CEO Imran. He urged us to discard our return tickets for the next day on Biman and instead fly with his airline as his guest. I was excited to accept, making the assumption that Ben would be up for it (he was), and not long afterwards we received our tickets and a plan to meet Imran the next day – he would be flying with us!

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Our flight was not until the late afternoon, so we had some unsupervised time to kill in Dhaka, to Brishty’s great concern. We left the hotel late, with the lady on the desk imploring us to return for another visit and next time bring our “jet”. I was glad to have Ben planning the ground activities, as he led us first on the local metro to the Bangladesh National Museum, a rather grander affair than the Pakistani version we’d been to in Karachi, although both were excellent.

The Bangladesh National Museum was originally established as the Dhaka Museum in 1913, and it became the national museum 70 years later in 1983. The museum is physically large, and varied in the nature of its exhibits, ranging from geography to historical artifacts, to art and displays on the independence war. The museum was quite busy and we just managed to slip in ahead of a large party from Jagannath University who subsequently overtook us, many of them approaching me for selfies including the professor leading the visit. I agreed, always on the condition that I could take one as well.

The exhibits on the war of independence were particularly confronting and sobering, with nothing censored when it came to showing the effects of Pakistan’s aggression. From here we headed to the top floor, which housed an eclectic collection of exhibits including one on dolls, and a small section about Switzerland. Having exhausted the attractions of the Bangladesh National Museum, we set out to walk to the nearby park.

As we exited the museum we were surprised to see a large group of riot police march past us down the road and set up a cordon facing us. Following them came a horde of people flying Bangladeshi flags, shouting slogans, and generally having a bit of a loud time. It seemed we had done the one thing Brishty told us not to – we had inadvertently joined a protest.

Thankfully for us, everything stayed good natured, with the protestors even sitting down facing the police. We slipped away along the side of the street, crossed the road, and headed for Ramna Park. Entering the park was easier said than done and we had to walk along about half its length before we came across an open gate. Inside was a stark contrast to outside – a quiet, clean oasis compared to the hive of activity the other side of the park wall. We walked from one end to the other, eventually popping out near the Intercontinental hotel. Getting out was nearly as hard as getting in, but a groundskeeper showed up at just the right time and unlocked a gate for us.

We rested in the lobby of the Intercontinental for a while before it was time to make our way to the airport and meet up with CEO Imran. Uber came through for us this time and we rode through moderate traffic to the domestic terminal, arriving a little early and waiting near check-in until the appointed time. The staff were clearly expecting us, as they quickly handed over boarding passes stamped “VIP” and led us through security and into a lounge area, where after a short wait Mr Imran appeared.

We chatted for a while in the lounge, Ben and Imran getting deep into conversation around the business challenges of running an airline. Ben chose that moment to cause a security incident, opening his water bottle which he’d primed with a couple of effervescent vitamin tablets from Slovenia. I don’t know if temperatures were higher, or whether he’d upped his dose, but the lid of the bottle shot off with a remarkably loud bang, hitting the ceiling tiles hard enough to leave a mark, and prompting people nearby to worriedly ask if we were OK. I was relieved that he hadn’t done it on board the flight.

The inbound flight was a little delayed, so Imran relocated us to the “VIP” lounge. This was certainly a step up, and we were provided with excellent tea and coffee for a small fee while we waited. It didn’t take long before the flight was ready for us, and we were ushered into a comfortable SUV as the rest of the passengers boarded buses, and driven across the tarmac to take photos with the aircraft and meet the crew while boarding proceeded. The aircraft layout was unusual with the baggage being stored between the flight crew and the passenger compartment – Imran told us how it was important to load the baggage before the passengers, to avoid the aircraft tipping on to its tail. As boarding ended we saw the Biman 777, that we would have been on, taxiing for departure.

I was pleasantly surprised to be offered the cockpit jumpseat for the flight to Chittagong, and eagerly accepted. The crew, including First Officer Karib who had put this whole adventure in motion, welcomed me and gave me a thorough safety briefing covering things such as the fire handles (these shut down the engines and deploy fire retardant), oxygen mask and smoke goggles, roof escape hatch and escape rope. I was also impressed when they demonstrated a unique feature of this aircraft – it had a horn you could beep to get the attention of people outside!

The crew explained that the visibility in Chittagong was currently too poor for flights to be released to take off bound for there, and that we’d therefore be waiting for conditions to improve. As we sat in the cockpit I listened in to their regular calls to operations, who were reporting steadily worsening conditions. My mind raced, trying to figure out how we could get to Chittagong – an overnight taxi ride maybe? An early morning flight, and late departure? The wait was broken up by delivery of coffee and sandwiches by the flight attendant. Over Karib’s shoulder I could see him messaging back and forth with Imran about our chances of taking off.

Eventually, though, the call came in – weather in Chittagong had improved to just above minimums. The crew jumped into action and I was impressed by how quickly and efficiently they got through their start-up checks to get us moving. We taxied out to the active runway, and before I knew it we were away. Every other flight for Chittagong was still sitting on the ground. Taking off, we checked in with Dhaka approach and were assigned FL110 for the trip. I was surprised – this was a Planey kind of altitude, but it seemed it was also suitable for a turboprop on a short hop like this.

We soon checked in with Chittagong ATC. Visibility was reported as 900m, which was adequate, and we were assigned to fly the RNP approach to runway 23. The crew briefed the approach thoroughly, including the missed approach procedure, and discussed specific hazards such as the low visibility. The autopilot handled the aircraft beautifully all the way down the approach. The runway came into sight about 4km out, and landing was smooth. Air Astra staff greeted us with a car, and we rode down to take a look at Planey.

Imran and entourage boarded the ATR to head back to Dhaka, and the local Air Astra staff escorted us through the airport and helped us get an Uber back to the hotel. I checked FlightAware as we drove, and saw that the Biman flight we were originally booked on had not even departed yet. I was happy to have been on Air Astra!

Captain Tashdique had very kindly organised the bookings for this second Chittagong visit as well. We checked in and freshened up before meeting Ridowan for dinner at the hotel. It was another early night – tomorrow would be the final long flight of this trip section.

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