Routine trip that ended in tragedy

By ALAN PERROTT AND STUART DYE

It was meant to be a day out of the office, a change from the usual routine for Crop and Food's senior management team.

Fourteen men and women from the unit in Christchurch had flown north to Palmerston North on Friday morning for an informal conference on plans for the organisation and new research ideas.

Five went on a regular commercial flight. The other nine hired a 12-seater charter aircraft flown by experienced pilot Michael Bannerman, the 52-year-old who had become owner/operator of Air Adventures New Zealand eight years ago.

The team often took separate flights, taking chartered flights to keep costs down if discounted tickets on Air New Zealand were unavailable.

All had attended similar six-monthly talks at either the Lincoln site or their sister-branch in Palmerston North over several years.

The plan was simple: quick morning flight to Palmerston North, a few hours' talks, then a late-afternoon flight home for dinner and the weekend with families.

They left fog-shrouded Christchurch and flew into a stormy Manawatu morning.

During the break for lunch, head of communications Howard Bezar, a keen horseman and the deputy field master of the Christchurch Hunt, called his sister Jane in Christchurch to check on the preparations for a hunt set for Saturday.

That afternoon, the mood was good as they began to head back to Palmerston North Airport to fly home.

Those on the scheduled Air New Zealand Link flight left the centre, on the outskirts of Massey University, an hour before the charter group.

Crop and Food general research manager Desma Hogg was eager to get home. She was among the larger group that called a taxi van for the 20-minute crosstown trip. Their charter flight was set for 5.45pm.

The 42-year-old had made plans for a special night in with her partner, Mark, and called him at 5.30pm to say she was on her way.

In the taxi, the passengers were relaxed and cheerful. They were a talented group of managers with a mix of experiences. Bezar was the son of an Olympic swimmer. Andrew Rosanowski, an expert on new crops, grew gypsophyla, for floral arrangements, to finance himself through university.

Gore-born pilot Michael Bannerman, a talented artist who loved to fly, had already made his way to the airport and shared a joke about losing his security pass with the guard who had waved him through many times before.

Their flight left on time shortly after 6pm, rose into the cloudy sky and headed south, avoiding the heavy Friday air traffic around Wellington, toward Christchurch.

A thick fog was starting to spread over parts of Canterbury. The clouds were already lowering.

Half an hour before they left, the MetService issued a forecast warning of visibility over Christchurch down to 500m and a cloud base which could be as low as 61m.

There was no indication of concern or tension as the Piper Chieftain began its descent to Christchurch Airport.

What happened next is being pieced together by air accident investigators. When 16km from the airport, Mr Bannerman requested and was granted permission to land. The plane steered through the clouds on an instrument flight plan to within 4km of the airstrip. They were on schedule, the landing gear was down and Richard Barton was belted into his seat, quietly reading a magazine behind workmate Timothy Lindley in the cockpit.

According to their flight plan, they should have been flying more than 90m above ground level on final approach. They weren't.

The last time the plane appeared on the air traffic control radar was at 7.07pm. It was just over a minute away from landing.

Two minutes later, when the plane hadn't landed controllers raised the alarm.



Christchurch Hospital was put on high alert as soon as the emergency call went out. The crowded emergency unit was emptied of patients and two theatre teams were put on standby to treat up to 10 survivors.

In rural Papanui, residents heard a blare of convoy emergency vehicles heading through the fog around 7.30pm.

Yvonne Palmer, who lives just a few kilometres from the airport, said families close to the crash site gathered to compare notes and offer support.

By now Richard Barton's wife, Cathie, was getting anxious. Her husband had not called to say he would be late. As she considered calling the airport, Mrs Barton turned on the television and heard breaking news of the missing plane.

Leaving one child asleep, she gathered up 13-year-old Rory and tried to use their combined willpower to keep Richard safe.

Mark was also worried. His partner, Desma Hogg, had not responded to his text message.

The Bezar family feared the worst as news filtered through. Mr Bezar's wife, Christine, was told at home in Springston, 26km southwest of Christchurch, while friends telephoned Wellington-based daughter Melissa, 22. An aunt broke the news to younger daughter, Amanda, 19, who lives in Queenstown.

The ground search was going slowly as searchers fanned out through a swath of barren landscape peppered with hillocks, trees and shingle ponds north of the airport. The 100 searchers were hampered by the thick fog. The plane locator beacon was broken in the crash.

As word spread, police switchboards filled with reports from people claiming they had heard loud explosions or even fireballs tens of kilometres away. Jet boats were put into Waimakariri River, north of the airport. Motorway exits were blocked off.

Volunteer firefighter Rob Henderson had been at home checking his emails when the emergency call came. By 7.35pm, he was part of a search scouring several hundred square kilometres in "diabolical conditions".

Even with his powerful torch, Mr Henderson said it was impossible to see 20m ahead when he literally stumbled on the crash scene.

His group had entered a wet, muddy area that was filled with water-logged pits and quarries.

"We heard what sounded like peacocks from a nearby farm, then realised it was someone calling for help.

"I began to run to the shouts and fell over. When I looked up I saw a body."

He found Richard Barton and Tim Lindley, still sitting in their seats facing each other, among the mangled plane wreckage and the bodies of their dead colleagues.

Mr Barton cried out: "Get me the hell out of here."

The first rescuers did not have a first-aid kit. It took up to another 15 minutes for it to arrive on a fire appliance. So Mr Henderson, another firefighter and a police officer comforted the survivors.

"We kept talking to them and reassuring them," he said.

Tossed through the disintegrated wreckage were the bodies of Margaret Viles, 53, Alistair Clough, 37, Richard Finch, 41, Desma Hogg, 42, Katherine Carman, 35, Andrew Rosanowski, 37, Howard Bezar, 55, and pilot Michael Bannerman.

In the city, 30 of their colleagues had gathered at Santorini restaurant for a farewell party in honour of a visiting colleague.

At 10.30pm the call came from another staff member to say seven of their friends and colleagues were dead.

The first ambulance headed for Christchurch Hospital at 10.45pm, the second 10 minutes later.

Two theatre crews, led by Dr Martin Than, worked for several hours to stabilise the two survivors. At Christchurch Airport, victim support teams were offering shoulders for the tears of relatives. The scale of the tragedy was only now becoming fully apparent.

additional reporting: Mathew Dearnaley, Patrick Gower