EGPO Stornoway, Scotland, GB

World Heritage Sites Air Adventures: Whisky, Whiskey, Whales, and Gophers

Today’s flight is proudly sponsored by SPAM®—the official canned meat of flying circuses and culinary champions everywhere.
In Hawaii, SPAM® isn’t just food—it’s a cultural icon, comfort food, and the backbone of breakfast, lunch, and dinner. They devour about 7 million cans a year, making it more popular there than anywhere else on earth. Whether it’s musubi at a corner store, fried rice at a family luau, or the prize in a Hebridean pub contest, SPAM® brings people together—sometimes in song, sometimes in sketch, always in style.
So remember: when destiny calls, answer with SPAM®.
‘We’ve got Spam, Spam, Spam, Spam, and a little more Spam!’”

Date: June 5, 2025
Log Entry – Duncan Campbell, Guest Co-Pilot
Aboard “Pipi” with Cropduster
Route: EGPE > EG29 > EGEI > Stornoway (EGPO, Spam Contest)

Mission: The Spam Tin of Destiny
Aye, Duncan Campbell here, and what a spectacle we made of ourselves in Stornoway! We landed just for the famed Spam-eating contest, but you’d have thought it was the Highland Games, given the crowd and the convoy that rolled in behind us.

Not only did we have Pipi and the ever-faithful Gopher Tanks, but our support crew arrived in full force: Maui the C-130, Luna Honua the C-17, and—turning more heads than a sheep on the runway—the EM50ex, our airborne man-cave and tactical party bus. The EM50ex was packed with the likes of Click, Kona, Venti, Bean, Slip, Wrench, Scotchmaster, Lost Boy, and Choo-Choo, all eager to witness the carnage and, let’s be honest, scoop up any local booze, brew, or oddball gifts we could barter for and with.

We even had a new face in the mix: Honor Blackman, working on her multi-engine rating and already talking about starting her own “Flying Circus.” She’s got the poise of Cathy Gale and the ambition of Pussy Galore—give her a few more hours in the logbook and she’ll be leading her own squadron of sky aces.

The pub was packed tighter than a can of—you guessed it—Spam. Brian Cohen, our host and the keeper of the legendary Spam Tin of Destiny, greeted us with a grin. “You lot bring more hardware than the RAF on payday,” he said, eyeing the EM50ex parked out front. “And who’s this? Another future ace?” he asked, nodding at Honor, who was already quizzing the locals about V-speeds and engine-out procedures.

Cropduster, ever the tactician, set up his rice cooker and nori on the bar. The locals watched in awe as he pressed rice, sliced Spam, and rolled musubi with the calm of a man raised on island time. The contest began, forks flashed, pints were raised, and our support crew cheered from the sidelines, led by Scotchmaster, who was already negotiating a trade for a case of Hebridean ale.

Brian leaned over and stage-whispered, “This is either the greatest culinary coup Lewis has ever seen, or the first sign of the apocalypse. And I’ve seen both.” When the last musubi vanished, there was no doubt: the Spam Tin of Destiny was ours.

True to tradition, Cropduster offered Brian a bag of Kona coffee and gourmet dog treats for his collie. Brian, never one to be outdone, handed over the tin with a flourish and a bottle of Hebridean ale. “Take it, Spam Master,” he said, “and may your Gopher Tanks never run out of petrol—or Spam. And tell your multi-engine apprentice here,” he nodded at Honor, “that if she ever needs a squadron, I know a few sheep that could use the exercise.”

With the contest won and the cargo holds brimming with local gifts and brews (thanks to Luna Honua’s cavernous belly and Scotchmaster’s bartering skills), we loaded up the Gopher Tanks, zipped back to Pipi, and were having a Tarmac Squadron Meeting/BBQ) before the foam on Brian’s pint had settled.

If there’s a lesson here, it’s this: never underestimate a pilot raised in Hawaii with nori in his flight bag, a support crew with a taste for adventure, or a future Flying Circus captain with her eye on the sky.

Tonight we rest—bellies full, spirits high, and the Spam Tin of Destiny secured.

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