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We were treated well at Olomouc. It was a slowly decaying, old, ex-soviet All too soon we had to depart from the delights of Munich and set off into the unknown - The Czech Republic beckoned. As sad farewell was said to Vilja as we stole her husband. (Thank you both for giving us such a wonderful welcome and for your hospitality - a truly delightful couple)

With all the latest weather reports carefully digested we had decided to head for a small airport half way between Oberschleissheim and the Czech border so as to clear customs and complete the usual foreign formalities. This airfield was Eggenfelden (EDME), and only some 50nm direct track to the northeast. On the way we had to negotiate some thunderstorms and lots of rain, but it was reasonably clear and, by the time we landed, blue skies had started to appear. A few cups of coffee and lots of paperwork later we all took off for Omolouc airfield (LKOL) in the Czech republic. Our route, for the most part, took us along the northern edge of Austria, north of Linz and Vienna via Krems and then northeast over the border into Czech airspace in the region of Lake "unpronounceable"! (I think it's something like "Vod.n.Nove Mlyny!) The countryside was, at first, hilly and heavily wooded. The valleys appeared dark and foreboding with early afternoon mists still lingering along much of their length - but that could, of course, have been simply psychological! This leg of our tour was to be our first taste of 'soviet' style ATC and authority and we didn't really know what to expect. It was considered that we ought to be on our best behaviour so as not to antagonise the natives; we were helped in this act of diplomacy with the simple expediency of taping up Paul V's mouth! We routed where they told us (to the east of Brno), we stayed at the assigned altitudes and talked to them when we were supposed. It all went well. Having cleared Brno airspace we tentatively called the Omolouc controller expecting broken English and hard to decipher clearances - after all it was a small, out in the sticks grass airfield. What we found was a slick operation, crisp radio work, marshalling and all the necessary authorities lined up waiting for us!airfield, with large hangars and seemingly plenty of microlight and ultralight aircraft in abundance (although we didn't see much flying activity). The main hangar gave stark evidence of its previous Soviet connections - the whole of the inside of the hangar door had been painted with continental road signs and with meaning (written in Cyrillic) painted beneath, presumably to train their people on what to expect whilst invading aggressively touring Europe! The Olomouc controller (Michael) was an ex-Mig fighter pilot and he latched on to us like a limpet. There was a nearby bar/café in which the drink was astoundingly cheap (and freely flowing). Many a happy hour was spent there watching the world walk by and entertaining the aforesaid Michael. In the evening the airport management arranged for us to be taken to a rather swish restaurant where conviviality abounded! Sleeping arrangements were various, some took to a decent hotel in town, some chose to utilise the bed provided in the airfield 'lounge' and the toughies pitched tents. That night, some people went to bed earlier than others!