Everyone needs a day off once in a while just to relax, breathe in and out, and try to keep some kind of sanity. Well, I had one planned, the first day I'd taken off in months, and was really looking forward to Sunday. I'd been invited to the Motocross Race—not to race, but to take part in some of the events and they'd asked me to fly my parasail. This was going to be a nice break from my daily work and lots of fun!
When Sunday morning came I had one flight to Parqupi to take out a medical team and deliver some medicines. I'd still be back in plenty of time for the races. Unfortunately the med team was late coming to the plane, which put me behind an hour. I figured I'd still be there in good time and enjoy my day off.
I was nearly home after making the flight when a call came in for help. A young man in the village of Wonken had a broken arm. I couldn't just leave him suffering, so headed out again thinking, if all goes well I'll just be gone another hour and fifteen minutes.
When I lit at Wonken the patient wasn't at the strip so I had to wait and wait. Finally he arrived, but as I was helping him into the airplane he told me, "I didn't get the reference paper." (Each village that has a nurse, or someone serving in some medical capacity, writes a paper with a diagnosis, treatment they have given, and information for the doctor.) So I waited some more while someone went after this paper. Fifteen minutes later they returned with the paper and I took off for our home base instead of taking him directly to Santa Elena. No, it wasn't to save time, but because all the emergency vehicles were at the races so no one would be available to provide transportation for this man.
I planned to drop him off at the hospital on my way to the races.
After settling the airplane in the hanger for a nap I headed to the house to get our pickup. Jumping in I jammed the key in and turned. Click, click it went. Oh no! Not now, I mumbled to myself. I tried again to start the truck, but to no avail. That starter had started for the last time. I did have another one, so went after it and rolled under the pickup to change it out. By now it was raining and water began running under the truck. It dripped all over me, even though I was underneath the vehicle. It didn't take too long to complete the change, and this time when I turned the key it started right up.
I hurried inside to change out of my wet clothes, and then drove into town where I dropped the patient off at the hospital. Now, finally, I was off to the races. It was now late afternoon and they were just about over. However, I did get to see one race. I guess one is better than none! It was way too late in the day to fly parasail, or to do any of the other things those in charge had asked of me. I just stood watching this one race with the other spectators, and then left for home because it was threatening a heavy downpour of rain. So much for a day off!
I am still hoping that someday we can have another pilot and someone to help with ground maintenance so I can REALLY take a FULL day off! After all, it does sound like such a great idea.
A few days back I had a real scary experience. I was in the village of San Miguel de Uriman, a big name for such a little village. The bush strip there is nothing great, like most of the places I fly into. It's about 1,200 feet long, if you count the tall grass at the end and stretch it a bit. When you take off it is uphill, not matter from which end, with the highest part near the middle. There are trees on one end and a hill with trees on the other. It's one of those strips where there is just no good way either in or out. Except for these things it is a great little strip, or would be if the grass was cut short so it wouldn't cause drag during take off. Because the wind is more favorable I usually take off toward the trees. Also the climb up the hump mid-strip is less steep from that direction, so it's easier to get airborne.
This day the emergency flight was for a pregnant woman who'd taken a bad fall and her baby was in trouble. I had her husband sit in the back seat with her. Starting the airplane I "taxied" through the tall grass, up over the hill and down the other side to the end of the strip. I checked the winds, and conditions looked great, but I had a feeling I needed just a bit more strip, so went further into the waist-high grass before turning around to take off.
I had a good run getting going and the air speed was just coming alive as I got to the top of the hill. In that instant my mind shouted, OH NO, HELP!! There on the strip was a flock of kids—humans, not goats. They were running down the strip trying to outrun the airplane. None were getting off to the sides and I didn't have room to stop. If I tried to stop I would certainly run over all of them and hit the trees at the other end.
I got more flaps coming down, although painfully slow. I glanced out to see if they were even moving. My plan was to jump over the children and then figure out how to get over the trees. I had to act now since the slower kids continued running down the strip straight in front of me. From the time I spotted them until I had to jump over them was less than a second, and at that moment I wished for manual flaps.
Just before I hit those behind I pulled hard on the yoke while talking to the bird to convince it that it could fly. It did, and I just barely missed them. It was so close—you don't even want to know.
Now for the trees! I pushed hard on the yoke, pushing the nose back down since the strip drops downward towards the trees. I had only 40 mph air speed and lots of flaps hanging out. I needed some speed to fly. I quickly brought the flaps up just a bit as I dropped back towards the ground again, muttering to the bird, "You can fly at this speed. Come on, fly." I got 45 mph out of it and held the nose up again. Up and over the trees we flew and then down over the river and I was flying!
I've never had any problem previously with the village people getting on the strip. I have had a few "well educated" people from up north who thought it would make a great picture to stand right in the middle of the strip and film the airplane landing or taking off, but never any natives. I told Celco, our radio operator, about my experience. He talked to the villagers in Uriman as well as the Captain over all that area, repeating my words. "If anyone ever gets on the strip again during a landing or take off I will never fly into that village again."
My message was taken seriously. The next time I landed, taking patients back home, I spotted faces in the bushes at the far end of the strip, but not one child came out onto the strip, not even after I had stopped and shut off the engine. I thank God for helping me that day so no one was hurt. There isn't much which scares me, but that experience shook me up for days. I would have run over a dozen children! By the way, I would have taken a picture of all the children running in front of me if I'd thought to pick up my camera, but I didn't. Ha! (Like there was time . . . .)
Thank you for your continued prayers for our protection and God's guidance. Right now I'm in Cuidad Bolivar working on insurance papers for the plane, so maybe pray that can be accomplished shortly.
God bless,
Bob & Neiba Norton