As much fun as it was hanging around with Pete and Cory in France Marcio and I felt that maybe, just maybe, we should put a few miles behind us and get just a little closer to our destination. So we bid our comrades farewell and took off for jolly old England. It wasn’t much of a leg for a ferry pilot but we’d wasted most of the day sightseeing and weren’t too far behind schedule, yet. The night flight over Paris was fantastic and I thought I was able to take some good pictures of the Eiffel Tower but when I got them into my computer they were all just a little blurry. We landed at Southampton and were greeted by quite the reception committee. Immigration, customs/border patrol and two very grumpy men from the Special Branch, some sort of CIA, I guess. It turns out that all the flying we’d been doing and the flight plans we’d filed, then never used, had triggered some alarms so they decided to check us out. They gave us a thorough going over but in the end realized we weren’t dangerous, just crazy.
