A few reports from 12°6′N 15°2′E. Mentioned in dispatches 1.

Over the next couple of weeks I thought I would blogg a few notes that I jotted on my kneeboard somewhere within 500nm of 12°6′N 15°2′E the capitol of Chad N'djamena. 

It is hard to imagine that when I was here in April I was frying in the day time and simmering at night. One dreamt of cool breezes & cooling rains. 
Now the rainy season is upon us flash follows flash, like a mighty artillery barrage, truly spectacular, as the skies open fire followed by the thunderous explosions of battered clouds overhead, reverberating off the tin rooves and the MAF compound is awash in the deluge. Another  wave of flashes illuminate the compound, trees thrash in the winds, a stack of small branches break off crackling like pistol fire as they are hurled to the ground...
Parts of the country in the south are cut off as roads become impassable and MAF comes into it's own. 

Decided to skip the instrument approach that I was planning, as the storm whilst seemingly far off when it seemed a good idea, was moving in very fast. If I do not switch to a visual approach I will be extremely lucky to complete a full instrument procedure  before the rather solid looking lump of water  hits the airfield. So wisdom says beat the rain and get on the ground fast. The storm is steaming relentlessly onward like a huge battlecruiser, N'djamena bound. The curtain of water is at first transparent, very quickly builds up fold on fold of white, grey, greyer then blackly impenetrable, a solid wall of water.

Pushing, shoving, pulling, squishing the freight is finally  in, it  is hot work in what is quite a humid day. I seem to be getting quite adept at fitting a quart into a pint pot, still I guess as I have flown with MAF now for 20 years that is to be expected. Only 8 passengers  today but I am saving them perhaps a 10-14 day road trip if they were to go by public transport. Mother & 7 children weighing in at a somewhat feather like 250kg, which is exactly the same weight as the freight, and whilst I could have put 100kg more on board the only place left for anything is on my lap! Every cubic inch is taken up, as there seems to be rather a lot of mattresses board, as well as some essential supplies for the work up north, so we are  as they say well and truly full up to the gunnels.

Heading for Bardi (kind of near Aozou on the map above) with the family of one of Mark's co-worker's. Mark had taken only 7 days 6 nights to drive the 1700km steaming across the desert to hit reach their destination, a mere 5hours for me, though a leg stretch and refuelling at Faya Largeau will mean we'll make it for a late lunch. Think he'll be happy, along with his team, to catch the flight back.

Sitting on the sand at Faya, resting in the sun, under azure skies, rainy season? Seemingly little chance here a cloudless sky, a golden carpet lay, before me  rocky outcrops stand aloof, guardians of the silence, broken only by the abrasive whisper of sand upon sand, as it swirls around rocky outcrops like children playing chase, barely leaving their footprints in the sand.  

The race is on! I am cleared for start up by the Tower but a couple of French Military Mirages have already gained the upper hand by dashing onto the runway ahead of me and before you know it, they  crisp the air into submission as they launch, tail pipes aglow as they roar skward. Alas that delay makes it to late for me, the clouds sliding in rapidly, the blue skies vanish, the cloud ceiling comes lower and lower and the bright morning turns to gloom, the wind picks up knot by knot, second by second. The skies have darkened as the jets crackle into the distance making their noisy and rapid escape, the race is lost and the door of escape has well and truly shut for me, as the first drops bounce on the faded apron. Control locks go into place, extra chocks under the wheels, hatches battened down,  sunglasses back in their case. My wife and a Dr, passengers for the two hour flight to Am Timan in the south East along with a mound of freight are boarded and tied down respectively! The storm hits with total enthusiam... 
Am Timan is a  small town is already pretty cut off by the rains, one of the quirks is the stack of huge 'mines' guarded in an out building just where we park!the aircraft. We wait it out for 90 minutes passengers lulled gently to sleep by the rocking slush of rain on tarmac, the rainy season in a dry and desert land!  

Remarkable Interview .... Father Christmas parks up his sled for the year

Greasing a sled onto a steeply pitched roof top with 35kts of cross wind, at night, in driving snow would make even Biggles blanche but it  is all part of one evenings work for this man commonly called Father Christmas, St Nick or Santa Claus by his friends and followers. But what about the 'day job'? I had often wondered what it was that  he did during the other 364 days of the year. Some would say he spent his time  repairing and making new toys, others until they saw these remarkable photo's suggested that he spent time at his local Greenlandic Health spa, not so, whilst he looks pretty trim and sprightly for a man of his years, he assured me that it was the cut of his shirt and the sky blue that always made him look thin. 

Well what about the day job? Here is the answer...

It was over a year ago that I met what I consider must surely be the world's most experienced pilot ever, this bush pilot extrordinaire then it was in an undisclosed part of Africa. So it was to my amazement that I have for the 2nd time met my child hood hero, only this time in an environment even more bizarre, one of  Harmittan's, dust storms, heat, rainy seasons that even Noah would have enjoyed and scorching sun that will boil an egg before you can say 'Bob's your Uncle! Well this world is all part of FC's day time employment. 

'So you work for MAF,' I asked, 'Sure do, Mission Aviation Fellowship, greatest flying job in the world,' his voice roared back at me, eyes grinned with a sparkle from under bushy eyebrows, his weather beaten bronzed skin, all seemed at odds with his some what full snowy white beard! "Well we fly these small aircraft, there are about 135 of them, based in over 30 different countries, each able to bring help hope and healing to some of the remotest communities  in the world, we partner with lots of organsations and it is great getting to know some remarkable people and supporting them in their work. Sometimes it feels like Christmas Eve every day." he laughed loud and long as if this comment touched a memory. 

So check out what he had to say...

So there you have it from the horses mouth. Good ol' FC seemed pretty enthusiastic about his work and it was a pleasure to meet a man who felt at home doing what he obviously enjoys, who would argue that when his trade mark call is Ho! Ho ! Ho!

Posing whilst taking a break, against a somewhat battered scout car

Above and below Enjoying meeting some students at the Teda
language and library centre in Bardi

FC teaching one of the locals how to read his new written language 

            Years ago the environment in Northern Chad was very different to what it is now.
Here some really old rock carvings that show there were once ostriches,
cattle , elephants and leopards in this area.

                                             

Standing next to his mount,
the start of the Tibesti mountains in the background.
Below Bardi At a view point

Shaking hands with South Korean Peter down in Bailli

Lending a hand in Zakouma National Park

Grabbing 40 winks on a passing elephant!

The Bush Pilot by John Carre Buchanan

I rather liked this short poem that John Carre Buchanan, that he did for me about a bush pilot working with MAF (Mission Aviation Fellowship), so I have added some of my photo's from Chad where I am on assignment at them moment, a little known but a remarkable nation where the jungles of Africa meet the deserts of Arabia, south of Libya, west of The Sudan and north of the Cameroons and CAR with Nigeria and Niger to the west.  I have to confess the silhouette is reflected over a river in the Northern Congo!

There is a real sense of privilege, working as a Bush Pilot and I thought these words catch the moment. 

The Bush Pilot

They wait
Keen eyes search the horizon
hoping for a glint of reflected sunlight.

Sharp ears filter the sounds of the bush

listening for the distant drone -

that heralds his coming.

This lifeline,

remains open where others have failed.

Some barred by conflict

others closed by weather, disasters or just – too far from wealth

and so he comes.                                                          

Transforming lives.

Bringing help, hope and love.

Flying people to safety.

Delivering food, medicine, equipment,

insight and encouragement

to those that need it.

a silvery light in the heavens,

approaches like an angel.

Dust, hopes and cheers rise

as the wheels touch the red earth

and the bush pilot steps down.

Excitement soars                           
John Carré Buchanan        24 May 2012

 PS John Buchanan has some excellent poems on his site Poet at Jaybern and it is worth checking the link on the right side of this page. 
John also has the poem on his site as http://johncbuchanan.blogspot.co.nz/2011/05/bush-pilot.html

Dragons, Scorpion Zappers and Mountains carved out of Stone

Looking down,
I was somewhat surprised to find the chart on my knee did not have a deep carmine image stamped on it to indicate that 'ye should beware of dragons'. I was approaching the mountains at 10,000ft and 149kts, I had often talked about them when speaking about MAF's flying in Chad but till the last couple of weeks I had not seen them except from the comfort of an airliner, so that does not count.  The previous week they had looked almost friendly, perhaps somewhat like a caged lion, their 1000 hues of brown and umber truly impressive when viewed under a jay blue sky that stretched forever and back again. Today though they painted a very different picture, looking almost evil, dark, malevolent; as rain & lightening where watering and splitting rocks on this usually arid moonscape of tumbling boulders, ravines and cliff faces that stretched up to 11000ft. I gently probed the foothill boundaries looking for a suitable gap but the flash of dragon fire was sufficient for me to decide that they had decided to bar all visitors today, so I bounced into a hard left bank and left them to themselves and skirted around them till I spotted a clear passage. Getting over the Tibesti's and onto the airfield some 80 miles south of the Libyan border is usually but 5hrs total flying in a Caravan, though an upload of fuel in Faya Largeau is required and makes for a welcome leg stretch, whilst a few folk are able to hitch a lift on the occasional Government transport the alternate is 6 nights & 7 days on the 'road' across at times virtually trackless golden desert in the hands of a kamakazi desert driver's land Cruiser or up to perhaps 12/14 days perched on/in the back of a lorry or similar. This is a beautiful, stark, landscape, an unforgiving region for the ill prepared or unwary, remote and little visited area but populated by lovely desert people.

Jim Le Huray our diminutive pilot also popped in to the centre

The two trips I made up did here were for very different reasons but actually both had the same aims, which basically was to make a difference to both the local populace and those who work in the region. One involved flying technicians to service a remote antennae and solar powered aircraft communications station and the other to support a language project which in the last few years has enabled the local written language (unwritten 20 years ago) to blossom, such that a new dictionary and the first copies of a newspaper printed in Libya are now being published. Having the written word is of great importance in a keeping a culture intact and healthy. The small centre is also able to offer the local community English teaching and introductory computer courses as well as the  use of a small library.

We also brought up a scorpion zapper, it probably has a far more technical name, in a nut shell it puts out a pretty healthy electric current (not unlike that from a cattle fence) which is passed through the sting and brings tremendous relief from the pain caused by the toxins, it has been used with great effect by missions in remote areas.  Whilst dismissed by some medics, it works well with scorpion and snake bites and the results are well documented and they have been used to save many lives as well as bring pain relief to many, you only need to speak with those who use them regularly to see they are a great tool. In the week between flights they used it 4 times on scorpion stings, here it is in use when this chap was stung by a scorpion which at first he had thought was a mouse!

My taste of the local driving involved a 25 minute drive through some pretty wild country from the sandy airstrip to the small town built around scores of date palms, whilst fun for half an hour it made me very quick to appreciate the advantages of flight! Chad is a remarkable country and what a gift I have been given to be part of the team that stretches around the world making a difference to people in some of the remotest communities on earth.

Some news from the ramp at FTTJ... A little dust goes along way.

...the licking of ones lips seems a constant occupation out here and trust me, it is not because of the cuisine! Today the visibility is down to 1200m which is marginal for us under IR (Instrument) rules, the air being laden with dust which gives it the appearance of fog with a hint of khaki. Unlike fog though it will never burn off and is here for the day. There is a cooling breeze; even though it is a bit like having your hair dryer on low heat, the moving air helps keep you ‘refreshed’ in a manner, when standing on the apron peering through the khaki mist trying to see if you can really see the radar dish, as if you can visibility, must be improving. There is the earthen taste on your tongue, your nose is dry & sniff free and your skin has lost some of it’s youthful suppleness, guess we should make that all  of the suppleness it might have had. The temperature is climbing to the forecast 44; appreciate there are many places it gets higher and some where there is also high humidity - I groan at the thought. 

On the ramp Kalvin is helping calibrate the fuel tank 'dipper' on our new aircraft when I say new the airframe is a ‘79 but the engine is new technology and is one of 5  we have recently acquired, it sips a far far cheaper fuel Jet A-1 aka parafin, than the piston ‘petrol’ drinker aka av-gas, it replaces.  Whilst the smallest of our aircraft we think it is going to be a great addition to our fleet. Another interesting fact is that the beautifully made propellor is made of laminated wood! 

The 'dipper' is used to ensure we have an accurate measure of how much fuel we have in the tanks, as the internal guages are known to be unreliable except when empty! Pilots on small aircraft always say about fuel 'if you havn't seen it, you ain't got it' ...well words to that effect anyway. NB. The aircraft is still with a British registration but is in the process of being de-registered and put onto the Chadian TT- register.

There is something magical about this desert nation, touches and sprinklings from Arabia, a soupcon of France, a batch of the Sahel and a giant helping of the Sahara. 

... next is an hour of French, in an effort to extend my conversation with all and sundry including the local traffic police, who seem eager to pull you in to have a friendly chat any time your passing and I fear my Bonjour and Enchante may be insufficient for my needs thereof.  

There are only three definite things in life for a pilot... ...

There are only three definite things in life for a pilot, death, taxes and check rides. I usually get three of the latter every year and at least three medicals to confirm I am not suffering a case of the foremost!  However I get a bonus every other year when I have to renew my FAA (American) Instructors certificate, yes I know I am a Brit but it is an International world out there folks. I have to sit through 16 presentations on the Internet and pass a short exam at the end of each. To be fair it is a very good way to learn and revise and quite enjoyable, one of todays units was on single pilot resource management - SRM for short!
Actually with a couple of exceptions all of our operations in MAF are carried out, when away from the main base by a team of one - I carry the pilots bags, unload and load 'his' aircraft, refuel it, serve 'him' hot tea,, give out the post and freight, round up the passengers as well as issue the tickets; yup team of one; so single crew resource management is vital! On the ground though there are usually plenty of onlookers and sometimes they can be a great help or an interesting hindrance. On one occasion when landing literally in front of a huge storm, the dark black clouds tumbling over each other as they raced  towards me, I had to beach and anchor my aircraft (it was amphibious) in double quick time. I  waved 7 or 8 Bangladeshi farmers to come and join me, they were only to happy to be given a chance to hide in such an unusual shelter and I was more than happy to have them welcomed on board, a stack of potential very helpful resources, should the aircraft break free from my anchor points.

Crew of one

We need to carry out the SRM skills on all our flights there are 5 of them, they work together, not only at 10,000ft but also in day to day life and I often run through the SRM areas as I get ready for the day whether I am at home or away. Thought you might find them interesting, perhaps even helpful.
Communication - may I hear what people say to me today and if I am not sure what is being said may I clarify it.
Decision Making - as a Christian I have been given brains and common sense, just pray for wisdom to use them!
Situational Awareness - No matter where I am today may I be aware of where I am and with whom.
Resource Mangement - May I use all the amazing things you have given me for your glory.

Working with the resources around can be fun

Workload management - May I learn to keep a balance in my life between work, family, keeping fit, sleeping and being a disciple of Jesus. Yet the latter pervades all the SRM areas.

The definition of SRM is the art and science of a pilot managing all available resources to ensure the successful outcome of the flight is never in doubt. 


... may that be a prayer for me and hopefully for you today, as you use all the available resources to get you through the events of the day.

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All for One and One for All

A wave of water envelopes the windscreen.... Richard gives me the thumbs up through the clearing deluge, this ‘flood’ was a simple way of seeing off the morning dew to give a clear view for the days work. Checks completed, battery on, starter engaged, engine spools up. The propellor starts to turn in time to the beautiful musical whine of Pratt & Whitney’s ever popular opening number. Blades gain momentum, whirling dervish-like, soon blurring into an almost invisible wall  of aluminium; turbine going up the scale & soon to be in full voice, ready for adventures new.

Refuelling in Moroto in NE Uganda - a new refuelling depot

‘See you then this afternoon,’ an enquiry fielded has turned into an office visit, coffee offered, plans discussed, times and cost decided, tickets printed.

Luc scratches his head, manuals, scattered across the work top, the fault identified & failed part removed. Already stores have managed to find a spare. This component rarely fails so the nearest ‘easily available replacement’ is only 5000 miles away. Already it is heading out with Fed-Ex, to start its new life on the equator. Routine checks are completed, parts installed, aircraft checked, paperwork written up. The Chief Engineer double checks both, another essay is written in the technical log book and all signed and counter signed .

The cleaner's daughter is seriously ill and the PM (Programme manager) arranges for her to go to hospital before he goes up to the Civil Aviation Authority to meet with some officials to chat over some thoughts on airfield security; face to face visits are the only way to encourage trust and friendship.  E mails from MAF International in Ashford, the latest updates to the manuals, a request for information from a board member will all need to be answered this afternoon, as will a letter from a new supporter wondering if they can have a picture of his family. The IT manager sticks his head into the office to say that the server is down again due to a power outage but ‘all should be well soon,’ he advises with a grin.

Passengers and baggage are weighed, tickets checked, seat removed and freight tied down. Aircraft fueled, water put on board and passengers walked down to aircraft.

I collect my paperwork, half a rain forest neatly printed out. I carry the 90kg of boxes neatly labelled for a variety of destinations into the back of my Toyota. I note it has a new front tyre, glad ‘Little Richard,’ who does our vehicle maintenance was onto that when I got in last night, despite being a bit late. The weather in South Sudan, according to the satellite photo, does not look so good; had a chat with Achim, another pilot and we decide going to the west looks the best route, the base radio operator says he will call the destination once I am airborne to get an update.  

Route is checked and weight and balanced confirmed. The aircraft is inspected and oil and fuel double checked. Text arrives from friend, supporter, sister, team member,  'praying for you.' 

                            There is only one pilot to keep an aircraft flying but there are 40 others who get it off the ground. 

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Practice may not make you Perfect but you sure get better at it

I was once invited to play a game of Golf, in fact my first, when I think about also my last. So we are ready to tee off, I remember listening to every word of my partners, heart pounding, watching, waiting, thinking this could be embarrassing. Wisdom said I should go last, I took note of their every movement, imagining melding into their posture, raised eyebrow, twitch of the forfinger, then it was my turn. Feet apart, balanced, poised, tense like a coiled spring, so with eye on the ball, I untwisted and the swing... the swing, surely it would have been the envy of any professional. The ball was hit to perfection,  it could only be described as a beautiful shot, probably still talked about  in Golf Clubs throughout  the British Isles... well may of been, had it been repeated it sadly never was, not even near. Politely it was best described as a fluke, from then on I did not have a clue, though previous time spent crazy putting at Beau Sejour came into its own when eventually any ball condescended to join me on the green.  Despite the obvious excellent start, it was a game that just did not catch my imagination and I have  never played or been invited again. 

As a pilot one thing I am quite good at is landings, in fact I have done about 10, 000, according to my log books into several hundred airstrips.  As it happens I have a similar number of take-offs, some would say based on 'alleged' bounces I have substantially more of the former than the latter! However the only  reasons I am good at landing is practice, also is there is a standard of landing and I practice to achieve that standard, anything less really is a poor show. The most demanding landings are to be had on water, certainly less forgiving if you get them wrong  but on land or river it is fun, challenging and at times quite exciting. 

This week I have been in Johanesburg in South Africa doing an Instrument flying course on the Cessna 208 Caravan. I have an Instrument rating already but  I do not use it for the type of bush flying I have been doing this last 20 years - as of July 2012. It is almost a year since I have practiced instrument flying seriously, as a result I would describe myself as a qualified Instrument pilot but not a proficient one and there is a difference. I have got out of practice and when out of practice you can think yourself competant until like a club rower who finds he has to go against Steve Redgrave you suddenly realise you are well and truly out of your depth. 
One way of practicing instrument flying and emergencies, is using a simulator, I am sitting happily in this machine in the picture above. The beauty of it is you can repeat an exercise, almost instantly with a tap of a computer key. Whilst I hated it for the first few days, as it had a mind of it's own and it did not feel at all like the real thing.  By day three when unexpectedly we simulated flying into a flock of birds, the engine stopped with a mighty bang and the glass on my windscreen fractured and the engine went quiet it seemed pretty real as I glided for an emergency landing. I was getting the hang of it, things practiced before kicked in and I landed the 'aircraft' safely.

So now as I look back over the first week it was interesting seeing how practice had made such a difference, next week flying is in the real aircraft - we will skip flying into a flock of birds! I can say I have loved the training, as things I should have known but had perhaps forgotten have been repeated, checked and repeated, the standard is being raised and experience is starting to come back into play. This course will cost MAF thousands of pounds, yet it is an essential part of training if I am to work in an Instrument programme where there is a shortage of pilots. Plus as pilots we are required to practice, that is a fact. The course is hard, long hrs, fun, challenging and exciting. 

My wife and I are doing a Kingdom Theology course with New Wine Training Partnership and it is brilliant. I am learning new ideas, challenging old ones, finding the Old testament is a remarkable book as is the New in more ways than I had thought, finding things I should have known before, remembering great truths. Plus there is a real practical side to this Theology  - is there any point in Theology that has no practical application? The work/study is hard, long hrs, fun, challenging and yet exciting.

I love going to the gym and kayaking, funny really that we put all our effort and at times funds into training, practicing, and becoming good at our work, our hobby, our sport perhaps all three even when it is hard, involves long hrs, yet we do it because we love the fun, challenge and excitement.

You know it is the same with being a disciple of Jesus to be any good at it* involves practice. You need to practice prayer, you need to practice reading the Bible, you need to practice loving people, you need to practice being generous, you need to practice being a servant, being a disciple, being different and wholehearted. It is hard, long hrs, fun, challenging and exciting. It's a mans calling...**

Christopher Bergland wrote recently in The Athlete's way: Sweat and the Biology of Bliss pub in Oct 2011 that essentially  'practice, practice, practice anything that you want to become world-class at.' 

Jim Le Huray our intrepid Bush Pilot joined me in the simulator. Check out Jim's films on youtube bigglesgsy

* Wholehearted - think about Caleb in Joshua 14:10-11

* *  Ladies, girls boys it is also a calling for you 

Tea time on the 'lawn', top notch airbourne refreshment! ?

                    

One of the great mysteries about the English is that when all hell is breaking loose around them, there is always time enough for a cup of tea, warmed pot - Darjeeling not tea bags, by no means is it only the British, who use tea for a restorative break but they do like to do it with style. You can see in MAF, tea is an essential part of keeping the operation going and one cup of tea rapidly evolves into a tea party. Reminds me of the amusing quote from the American film Mary Poppins  "As the ship lay anchored in Boston Harbor, a party of the colonists dressed as red Indians boarded the vessel, behaved very rudely, and threw all the tea overboard. This made the tea unsuitable for drinking. Even for Americans." Actually folk from the US do do great cold tea. 

Tea really does do something for you. Alas here I am in South Africa and rather a fan of Rooibos, and I have not had a cup of tea in 3 days as there is none left in the guest house, I have found hot water an adequate 2nd but then again perhaps not as I read this delightful quote from a PG Woodhouse book, which Trish and I are reading aloud together. "'Morning, Jeeves," I said. "Good morning, sir," said Jeeves he put the good old cup of tea softly on the table by my bed, and I took a refreshing sip. Just right, as usual. Not too hot, not too sweet, not too weak, not too strong, not too much milk, and not a drop spilled in the saucer. A most amazing cove, Jeeves. So dashed competent in every respect. I've said it before, and I'll say it again. I mean to say, take just one small instance. Every other valet I've ever had used to barge into my room in the morning while I was still asleep, causing much misery; but Jeeves seems to know when 

I'm awake by a sort of telepathy. He always floats in with  the cup exactly two minutes after I come to life. Makes a deuce of a lot of difference to a fellow's day."

Often wonder who had the most need for restorative cups of tea in the Bible. Think it would have to be Paul .... think this inspiring paragraph would have generated the need for more than a few cups of soothing tea. 2 Corinthians 11:25-29 Three times I was beaten with rods. Once I was stoned. Three times I was shipwrecked; a night and a day I was adrift at sea; on frequent journeys, in danger from rivers, danger from robbers, danger from my own people, danger from Gentiles, danger in the city, danger in the wilderness, danger at sea, danger from false brothers;  in toil and hardship, through many a sleepless night, in hunger and thirst, often without food,1 in cold and exposure.  And, apart from other things, there is the daily pressure on me of my anxiety for all the churches.  

Time for a tea break and dig into 2 Corinthians in the New Testament ...