THE ILPARPA AIR CRASH
“ … I really thought it was the end of the world …”
The twin-engined aircraft descended dangerously low over the Ilparpa Valley, near Alice Springs, clipped the rocks of the lofty Ilparpa Range and quickly exploded into flames.
It was just after 7.45pm on Thursday, April 27, 1995.
Approximately 7 kms south-west of Alice Springs.
Ken Hibbert, a rural resident, remembers the fateful evening.
“I happened to be reading the Bible at the time,” he recalled. “Of all things, I was reading about the last days of the world. All of a sudden, there was a terrific explosion, not far from where I was sitting. Everything shook, and there seemed to be fire everywhere. I really thought it was the end of the world …”
For the three men on board the Pel-Air Westwind aircraft, the accident did mark the end of their days. All perished in the flames that quickly spread over the top of the rugged mountain top.
A witness who scrambled up to the crash site soon afterwards claimed he found the dead body of a man lodged in a tree, heavily on fire.
The cargo jet, carrying as part of its load, “thousands of dollars of US currency,” lost most of the money in the flames, along with “some medical specimens.”
On the aircraft was 32-year-old George Karafiloff (1963-1995), of Bexley, in Sydney. His companions were another pilot, Ian Thomas Chessell (1947-1995), of Runaway Bay, on Queensland’s gold coast, and Terry Francis Bird (1966-1995), “who had been in Darwin for three years … and was on his way to do further training for Pel-Air, who had just employed him, and he was going to his parent’s home at Mitcham, in Melbourne,” said a Centralian Advocate report. Ian Chessell was the pilot in command, George Karafiloff a co-pilot, and Terry Bird a passenger.
The aircraft, an Israeli Aircraft Industries Westwind model 1124, appeared to have clipped rocks on the northern tip of the Ilparpa Ranges, skidded over the rough terrain while exploding into flames, then plummeted down the southern slope while its debris scattered over 200 metres of bushland.
Witnesses told police they had seen the doomed aircraft coming across the Ilparpa Valley at an “unusually low level” on its descent from the north-west to the Alice Springs airport.
Earlier, the plane had left the Tindal RAAF Base near Katherine. Its route had been from Darwin to Sydney, via Tindal, Alice Springs and Adelaide on a routine flight carrying general freight.
Police located the “black box” flight recorder and kept it in their custody overnight, together with the charred remains of the three men.
“The wreckage of the jet was barely recognisable,” a journalist noted, “the impact and explosion smashing and melting its fuselage.”
About four months after the air crash, the counsel assisting the coroner, David Greenwell (himself a former commercial airline pilot), visited the point of impact with the Northern Territory coroner, John Lowndes, and others involved in the official inquest.
Mr Greenwell pointed out to the observers the marks of a wheel and tyre still clearly visible on a rock which, he believed, was the second point of impact.
Greenwell told his companions: “Another four or six feet higher and they would have made it.”
From this point, the Alice Springs airport was well within sight.
This particular rock was the one that ripped open the belly of the fuselage, it was said. The plane became briefly airborne again before plunging to rest in a rocky ravine on the southern slope of the ranges. Here the aircraft exploded into a ball of flame. It was in this vicinity that the bodies of the three men were eventually found. Scattered around in the bush and gullies were fragments of pilot’s seats, a radio, wiring and the remains of an intense fire.
Greenwall observed: “The three were killed instantly. The aircraft was totally destroyed as a result of the impact, explosion and fire.”
The plane was used for a regular run to and from the Northern Territory five days per week, chartered by T.N.T. Air Couriers’ priority air freight service. It was owned by Pel-Air Aviation, of Mascot, Sydney.
Ian Chessell, who is understood to have been piloting that evening, was “a highly experienced pilot with more than 2500 hours on Westwinds aircraft.”
Mr Greenwell said the weather had been excellent, fine and dry, but very dark. He had been informed by other pilots that the approach sector was marked on the former Civil Aviation Authority charts as “difficult and dangerous.”
Both flight charts used on the fatal journey by the pilot and co-pilot, “although different, were both legal and in accordance with C.A.A. information.”
The particular hill struck by the aircraft was not shown on the charts, although a lower hill on the approach path was indicated.
“You may find that significant,” he told the coroner.
Greenwell said if the Westwind pilot had maintained the rate of descent he was on over Simpsons Gap and the Temple Bar radio beacons he would have easily cleared the Ilparpa Range.
Investigators learnt, however, that the pilot had increased his descent from “about 1000 feet a minute to 2000 feet per minute.”
Mr Greenwell told the inquiry: “For some inexplicable reason, the pilot doubled his rate of descent which took him straight into the hill.”
At the coronial inquiry an eye witness to the air crash said the aircraft had seemed to be flying low and there was a “change in the engine pitch” prior to it hitting the Ilparpa Ranges.
A media report of June 21, 1996, stated: “Paul Svensen, of Hablett Crescent, a former avionics system technician … said … he was travelling along the Stuart Highway on his way home to Alice Springs when he noticed the aircraft approaching the Ilparpa Range …
‘I noticed the landing lights extinguished and immediately following … the aircraft hit the top of the range (and) turned into a fireball.’”
Mr Svenson thought the landing lights being extinguished indicated either a complete electrical failure or that the pilot realised he was flying far too low and had tried to retract the undercarriage to undertake evasive manoeuvres.
Patrick Torres, who lived near the range in Kadow Road, said his attention was drawn to the aircraft when he noticed an alteration to the engine speed. Two or three seconds later, he said, he heard the sound of a collision followed by an explosion. He could see the glow of flames on top of the range.
Craig Whan, who held a trainee pilot’s licence, told the inquiry he estimated the plane had been flying at about 200 feet and appeared to be “parallel to the range.”
Whan said: “Then it yorked right … the lights became more intense; he disappeared from sight for a split second … then there was an explosion.”
Mr Whan did not think there was any “backstick movement,” as though the men on board had no idea of a pending accident.
A Katherine visitor, Anthony Yoffa, said he saw white lights on the aircraft which then disappeared.
“…We heard a loud explosion and saw a large fireball erupt from the position where we had last seen the plane.”
Other witnesses told the inquiry of climbing up the range in search of survivors. They discovered three bodies, as well as courier bags and documents scattered around.
Mr Yoffa said he and another man found $(US)320 which was handed to the police.
On October 30, 1998, the coroner, J. A Lowndes, released a 148-paged document of the inquest, stating: “I suppress publication … of my findings, comments and recommendations that make reference to the contents of the cockpit voice recording.”
At the inquest, 34 witnesses gave evidence, and 122 exhibits were tendered.
Forensic patholigist, Dr. K. Lee, performed autopsies on each of the deceased and found that the three men had died of “multiple injuries.”
The report said the aircraft “struck the range approximately 105 degrees, in a wings-level attitude, while climbing at an angle of about five degrees … (the) aircraft configuration at impact was landing gear down and flaps extended 20 degrees.”
It was believed that the initial impact occurred when the right wing-tip tank struck a rock on the north-west edge of the escarpment.
From there “the first major impact occurred 60 metres further on when the landing gear and the lower fudelage struck large rocks … Fire began at this point … The aircraft then progressively broke up as it continued across the top of the escarpment before cartwheeling into a ravine on the southern side … Most components had been severely affected by fire.”
An initial investigation discovered that “there were a number of recorded instances of the pilot in command experiencing difficulties in track keeping while flying non-precision approaches,” and and the pilot … flew the Alice Springs locator/NDB approach for practice on 4th April, 1995, during which his track-keeping was reported to have been ‘sloppy.’ “
Another note pointed out that “there was evidence from the … voice recording, as well as other evidence, of a degree of ill feeling between the crew members.”
Also, the co-pilot had incorrectly given the pilot in command a “minimum descent altitude,” resulting in the aircraft descending to 2,300 feet. Subsequently, the aircraft struck the top of the Ilparpa Range “at about 2,250 feet … and 775 metres left of the runway … while in a shallow climb.”
The Alice Springs-Simpson’s Gap-Temple Bar locators, installed in the mid 1960s, contained “apparent inaccuracies,” an Alice Springs pilot noted in a letter to the Civil Aviation Authority (CAA), depicted on charts as “a straight line” when the flight path was actually “a dog leg” route.
In its response, the CAA acknowledged the error and advised its intention “to re-draw the chart at a future date to remove this confusion.” However, an amended chart was not issued.
In 1993 an examination of landing procedures in Alice Springs revealed anomolies, saying: “The track between Simpson’s Gap and … Alice Springs was depicted incorrectly as 112 degrees instead of 110 and shown as a straight line … The Simpson’s Gap – Temple Bar – Alice Springs track was not a straight line … The chart … used by the Westwind crew revealed the same anomolies.”
Approaching Simpson’s Gap, the aircraft descended through 4.300 feet to about 4,000 feet and then ascended back to 4,300 feet.
The report continued: “The aircraft maintained this altitude to overhead Simpson’s Gap before commencing a steady descent at about 1,100 feet per minute. The aircraft reached 3.500 feet a few seconds before passing Temple Bar and levelled briefly before descending again …”
“The next critical stage of the final approach was when the co-pilot indicated that the aircraft was over the Temple Bar locator and … could descend to 2,300 feet. The pilot … asked (the co-pilot) to select the landing gear … The crew … completed … pre-landing checks. About 11 seconds later, the co-pilot reported that the aircraft was 300 feet above the minimum descent altitude. This was confirmed by the pilot … About 10 seconds later, there were two calls by the co-pilot to pull up. Immediately after the second call, the aircraft struck … the Ilparpa Range, while heading about 105 degrees at an altitude of about 2,500 feet in a shallow climb.”
A witness told the inquest: “ …Really … the airplane hit a hill and the flight crew weren’t aware that it was going to hit a hill … that’s a loss of situational awareness reduced to the most basic level.”
The official report said: “One has only to ask why such an experienced pilot as Captain Chessell, with over 10,000 hours experience, would have had difficulties with the approach … The only plausible explanation is the confusion engendered by the inaccuracy of the chart showing the track passing directly over Temple Bar when, in fact, it was displaced to the left … The fact remains that the pilot was attempting to fly the track and, because of the difficulties … he decided to vary the approach …”
It is of interest to note that the officiating coroner, in his findings, decreed that “publication of … the cockpit voice recording was … prohibited,” and “all … parties who were entitled to hear the recording were to be sworn to confidentiality.”
On June 17, 1996, George Karafiloff Snr., father of the deceased pilot, laboriously scaled the Ilparpa Range to personally view the wreckage of the Westwinds aircraft.
Nursing a sprained ankle and supporting himself on a mulga stick, Mr Karafiloff climbed over the unstable shale surface to reach the site of his son’s death, 160m above the valley floor. Near the fire-blackened wing, still bearing its painted identification number, VH-AJS, Mr Karafiloff came across a glove which he recognised as belonging to his son.
He said: “I had to see this, to see the last place my boy was alive. I have two grand-children and they will want to know from me that I have seen the place where they lost their father.”
-BJC.
(Research material compiled from reports published in the “Centralian Advocate” newspaper, Alice Springs, and the official inquest findings of October, 1998.)
Foot Note:
Recently (in July, 2008) I showed the crashed plane to two local history buffs. Bill and Phil.
There’s no track to the plane wreck. It’s just a hard slog over loose rock up the southern slope of the range till you get to a rocky crevasse where the remains of the plane finished up; from that point, it’s straight up, pretty hard going, slowly and very carefully. From down below, you really can’t see the wreck site. You sort of stumble across it as you scale the slope.
It is an unnerving feeling to trace the debris of the aircraft across the top of the range, seeing parts of the aircraft lying scattered among the rocks. I brought back a piece of thick glass – probably part of a window, that was cracked and moulded together by intense heat. Scattered everywhere among the rocks was twisted metal, some buckled by the flames.
We had to scramble dangerously up the steep slopes of the ranges to the rocky ravine where the aircraft, back in 1996, came to rest, and where three young men ended their lives in a fiery explosion.
At the crash site is great sadness. It is embedded in the rocks, those ancient, overwhelming rocks, brooding over the follies of men and sympathising with their families or other grieving visitors who are affected by the radically twisted metals and molten glass, the smashed radios and receivers and the miles of charred electronic wires and unidentifiable parts, the rubber skids still evident on some rocks, the heaps of charred remains. We found hurled into the scrub a pilots chair, twisted grotesquely, still with the safety strap intact, but unbuckled. Saved from the fire was a wooden, slightly charred block of wood with a hole drilled through it. Bill thought this might be one of the chocs used to place in front of the wheels when the plane was stationary. Quite likely. It is out of place there. On the south slope, in a rugged ravine, where remains part of one wing – and where the inquest report stated were found the bodies of the three men – something very solemn pervades the area.
This is where the father of one of the deceased pilots scrambled to with a gammy leg to see for himself the place where his son had died, and where in the vicinity he picked up a glove which he recognised as being his son’s; he took it home to Sydney with him to give it to his boy’s children.
This is the location where I thought a plaque should be mounted on the ancient rocks as a warning to others of our ever-present vulnerability, our tentative grip on life.
Up high on the ranges, we stopped our searching to look out over that beautiful expanse of country that seemed to roll away to infinity, the sort of country that turns you breathless for a moment yet charged with wonder.
I said to Bill: “Have you ever thought back over your life and remembered a time where you should have died, but didn’t?”
He smiled knowingly, nodded enthusiastically, and said: “Oh yes. The trouble is, I’m not so sure I didn’t die and all this now is just a dream.”
I gave them each a copy of the Ilparpa air crash story, as presented on VOTO, and they were stopping along the way up and down to read it.
I wore the wrong boots. Blundstone elastic sides are not the right footwear for scaling up and down rocky slopes. They do not support the ankles enough. I nearly fell twice. Among the wreckage scattered over the top of the range and down the south side I found another shoe, now wrinked with age and stiff. Probably it came from one of the dead men. On an earlier visit to the crash site, probably 3-4 years ago, I had found a man’s lace-up shoe, the stitching burst out at the heel. It was no longer there, possibly taken as a souvenir. I hid this shoe under some of the wreckage so no one would confiscate it.
George was my first cousin and my best mate,we were like brothers.to this day and every day after he is remembered and missed.We will never forget him or that terrible day.
— Michael Karafiloff · 2 04 2008 - 09:46 · #
Some Alice Springs residents are considering a commemorative plaque being affixed to a rock at the crash site, together with the relevant names of the deceased and the date of the tragedy.
— The Boss · 5 08 2008 - 09:57 · #
Georgie, as we called him, will always be so special, not only within his family but to so many others.
He was the only loving child of Tootsie & George. His daughters, Larisa & Michaela, now teenagers, were not given the choice of growing up with their loving & so proud dad.
I strongly believe a commemorative plaque being considered by Alice Springs residents, would be greatly appreciated by his family.
Thank you.
— Alec Lazich · 3 10 2008 - 10:06 · #