This August evening flight was different from all others: the plan was to cross the three Baltic states in one stretch, from Lithuania to Latvia and finally into Estonia. A symbolic journey from south to north, ending right on Europe’s.
Flying VFR (Visual Flight Rules) meant staying clear of restricted zones and carefully navigating the many military areas that dot the Baltics. I spent time preparing a route at FL 95 (Flight Level 9,500 feet) – part of the semicircular cruising system, which determines odd or even flight levels depending on your heading. At this altitude, I could safely fly for three hours without oxygen, while also being treated by controllers more like IFR traffic, since I used IFR waypoints in my VFR plan. It worked.
The Estonian Transport Administration requires an overfly permit for ultralight next-gen aircraft like mine. I had reached out two weeks earlier to Mart Krikmann, Senior Inspector in Tallinn. Not only did he approve my Blackwing (F-JKYS) in no time, but he also shared his personal experiences with local airfields. You could sense the aviation enthusiast behind the official title – a small human detail that makes a big difference when planning such flights.
Initially, I had dreamed of visiting Ruhnu and Kihnu, two Estonian islands in the Gulf of Riga known for their isolation and charm. But weather in northern Finland was deteriorating quickly, with wind and rain on their way south. Reluctantly, I adjusted the plan: tonight, we would fly straight to Narva and skip the islands.
Crossing Latvia and heading into Estonia, controllers guided me smoothly as if I were an airliner. One asked me to climb to FL 100 – usually reserved for IFR – and later simplified my navigation by assigning just a single waypoint at the Latvian border. At GATVA, a famous waypoint, I was handed over to Tallinn control. The professionalism and friendliness of Baltic ATC impressed me all along the way.
But Narva is no ordinary destination. Located on the very edge of the European Union, the town sits opposite the Russian fortress of Ivangorod, divided only by a river. The airspace is sensitive, patrolled by drones, and surrounded by danger zones such as EED, just south of Narva. Landing there requires police and border permits – paperwork that seemed nearly impossible to secure.
Instead, I found my way to one of the local aviators who keeps the Narva airfield alive. English is not his first language – nor his second – but his enthusiasm was clear. A week before the flight, I had called him, explaining my dream of flying to Europe’s edge. His answer was short and simple: “Yes, ok.” I called again from Druskininkai. Same answer.
As I approached from the south, an Estonian controller asked if I had a police permit to land. I hadn’t spoken to the police, but Nicolai’s “yes” was the only green light I needed. There was no refusal from ATC, so I continued over the vast waters of Lake Peipus, one of Europe’s largest lakes, stretching over 3,500 km² and marking much of the Estonian–Russian border. The evening light reflected beautifully on its surface – a fitting gateway to Narva.
According to SkyDemon, Narva has no radio frequency, so I overflew the airfield to check the runway and the wind. With calm air, I prepared for runway 27. But as I turned final, I realised the sunset was blinding, reflecting straight off the Gulf of Finland into my eyes. Landing towards the light on an unknown grass strip felt like tempting fate. I switched plans and landed in the opposite direction instead. Alone in the circuit, I touched down smoothly on Narva’s grass runway – mission accomplished.
Nicolai appeared shortly after, helped me secure the aircraft, and drove me into town. My hotel room looked directly across the river into Russia. Few places in Europe make you feel the border more tangibly than here.
Exhausted after a long day, we had dinner in the hotel restaurant, trying a local fish from the Gulf of Finland – apparently rare, but delicious. Tomorrow would bring new encounters: thanks to my Luxembourg connections, I was already in touch with Anastasia from my customer Emma Technologies in Luxembourg, whose family comes from Narva. A meeting was set with her sister and daughter Stefania the next morning.
But for tonight, it was enough: the Blackwing was safe, and I had reached Europe’s edge together with my son.
