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atpcfii@ferrypilot.cjb.net
Fred H. Quarles ATP-CFII (resume)
888-595-9131
When I think of aviation "gotcha's", I am continually amazed at how pre-conceived fixations have almost done me in.
For instance.
I had undertaken to ferry a Callair A-9 from the factory at Afton, Wyoming to Managua, Nicaragua one summer. At that time, I was early in my aviation career, and tended to be a little reticent to ask probing questions, being too ignorant to know any better.
The boss explained, that the trip was a fixed cost trip. i.e. I
got so many dollars and had to pay expenses, gas, airline ticket
back, and what's left is profit. Try and buy gas where it's
cheap and land with minimum reserves, and you'll do OK Mr.
Quarles. Oh, and by the way, the airlines will let you hitchike
with them for free.
Roger if you say so, Sir.
The Callair, was a crop duster, being used in Nicaragua for a spraying operation owned by the Vice President Silvio Cardinale. This airplane was a single seater, so the checkout was done on the ground, not in flight.
After an introduction to the fuel system (the spray hopper was filled with gasoline giving 13 hours range - very nice to have when lost over the Mexican jungle), and a walkaround, some of the finer points of this particular airplane were pointed out to me.
I noticed what looked like a sharp steel bar welded down the front of the windshield and on the leading edge of each landing gear, and asked what that was for. "Why Mr. Quarles, that's a wirecutter, in case you get tangled up in some barbed wire or high tension lines." (I should have known ). Doesn't everyone fly down low enough that their airplane occasionally needs to cut it's way out? (I have recently noticed that helicopters have these things also...especially the rescue ones.)
The seat though, was a work of art. Contoured, comfortable, even pretty. If a pilot is going to work in one of these things for hours on end, he needs to be comfortable.
Then we came to the doors. These things were about four feet
high, and hinged down, over the wing. When you got into the
plane, you would pull up on the handle and then hook a wire catch
around the steel tubing at the top of the steel tubing at the
top of the door...see...just like this. (Thanks Boss...I probably
wouldn't have figured that out.)
Unlike most
airplane doors which would be forced closed by the airstream,
this door would flap up and down in the wind if it came open.
There was a mapcase on each door on either side of the plane.
As I buckled it on, I asked about ventilation. "No problem, Mr. Quarles. Just snap the wire catch around the fueslage and leave a crack in the door. The air just comes through in a nice breeze. Leave it cracked on either side, and you will have a nice breeze to keep you cool on your way through Mexico." Sounds OK.
"So what do I do if I get cold and want to close the door.?"
"No problem, Mr. Quarles. Just hold the door by the handle at the hinge, snap the wire catch loose and pull it closed. Easy as that."
"Have a nice trip. And by the way. Try to get to your destination before dark." (I have learned the hard way about the "Oh, by the way" statements).
With that checkout, I tied my flight bag behind the seat, kicked the tires, lit the fires and headed to Nicaragua.
The trip to Brownsville, Texas was uneventful, taking two days, with an overnight at Liberal Kansas. Navigation was fun, using just a sectional chart. The plane had no radios, and no interior lights.
After Brownsville, the next stop was Vera Cruz, Mexico, where I spent the night, getting gas and well fed. (I was beginning to like being an international ferry pilot. Great life...They give you a new airplane and a handful of money and say "have fun! This trip is going to be a piece of cake......and I get paid too...wow...")
On the flight from Vera Cruz, I was to head south, pick up a railroad for a checkpoint, then climb to 10,500' and cut across the Isthmus of Tehuantepec until I hit the Pacific Ocean, then turn left and follow the coast on down to the Gulfo de Fonseca, cut across the Gulf and then direct to Managua.
When I left Vera Cruz, because it was quite hot, I had the doors cracked open, and climbed on up to 10,500', and settled in for a nice flight over the jungle, getting comfortable and taking off the shoulder harness and seatbelt. I wonder when that railroad will show up? I should have seen it about 45 mintutes ago. Oh well, just head on south, and duck around the towering cumulus. Eventually, I realized I had no chance of ever seeing any railroad, it being at least covered by jungle, even if by some chance I was anywhere near.
After about 2 hours, it had gotten quite cold at 10,500. I was dressed in shorts and a windbreaker, and I decided to close the door.
Without thinking much about it, I reached over, grabbed the wire handle (about the thickness of a coat hanger) with one hand, and the latch at the top of the door with the other, like I had been instructed to do.. As I unsnapped the latch at the top of the door, I got jerked out of my seat and halfway out of the airplane, when the prop blast hit the door, with this big barn door flapping up and down like the wing of an eagle.
As I went out the door onto the wing, I wrapped my legs around the stick and grabbed the throttle and pulled it back to idle, then tried to struggle with the door, which was beating itself against the top of the wing.
Just as the airplane stalled and started to spin, it had slowed just enough that I was able, with all my strength, to pull it closed and snap the latch closed.
Whew! Wonder why he never mentioned that.
As I recovered from the spin, brought the throttle forward and
resumed level flight, I took inventory. Maps still in the door
pocket. Wonder why they didn't get sucked out over the jungle
so I would have to earn my keep?.
I was still flying at 10,500. Still cold.
Still getting a breeze from the other door which was also cracked "just a little".
After I thought about it, I decided I would wait till I landed to close that other door.
The balance of the trip was relatively uneventful on the way to Nicaragua. although I never did see the railroad or the other checkpoints. (13 hours fuel has a lot to commend it).
Eventually, the Pacific Ocean showed up, and in order to warm up, I dropped down to 1,000' and flew down the coast. As I went along the coast line, I saw some huge Manta Rays swimming just offshore.
Now a fish that is large enough to see with your naked eye from l000' is a respectable size fish, so I pulled out the 35mm camera and took a few shots. Later, when these were developed, you could actually look at the slide and see the Manta Rays. I have no idea how big these things were, but they must have been huge. I know that sounds like a fish story but it's true.
By this time, it was getting near evening, but I was also nearing Managua. As I crossed the Golfo de Fonseca, and crossed the shoreline into Nicaragua, I still had a good supply of fuel on board, but I was getting tired and looking forward to landing. Since Managua was visible in the distance, I pushed the throttle forward, and at low altitude, the big engine just gulped the fuel.
As I crossed the outer boundaries of Managua, looking for the airport it was difficult to find, and required a considerable amount of time, as the twilight was turning into night.
Finally, I saw the airport, and turned into the traffic pattern. An airliner taxied into position for take-off. It had now turned very dark, and I had to get out the flashlight to see the instrument panel. Fuel was now getting to be critical and it was TIme to get the plane on the ground.
The airliner took off, and as I turned onto base leg, the tower cut off the runway lights. That's a hell of a thing to do, since it was now pitch black outside, and I only had the darkness of the large airport to judge where the runway might be. I continued on, tightening the shoulder harness and seatbelt, and put the flashlight in my mouth to see the airspeed, as I settled into the darkness, thinking this was a terrible thing to do to a brand new airplane.
As I passed through 200 feet, I could just pick up the white stripes on the runway which I used for alignment and settled on down for an uneventful landing, turned off the runway and taxiied into the ramp.
After unloading the plane, I still had to go through customs, and then I headed up to the tower, furious about them cutting off the runway lights.
At the tower, I had a conversation with the tower operator:
Me : "Didn't you see me in the traffic pattern"
Him" "Si Senor, but you went behind the tower, I thought you had left"
Me : "Why did you cut the runway lights off"
Him: "Oh Senor, the electricity eet ees expeensive"
(Now I know why ferry pilots say land before dark)
Enough of this for the night, I got a cab to a hotel for the night.
Reflecting back on this mild adventure, I am amazed at how my fixations nearly caused multiple disasters. I had blindly accepted the instructions about how easy it was to close the door in flight, without even a second thought.
Similarly, I hadn't given much thought to the hazzards of night flight outside of the U.S. and the particular quirks of foreign airports. That was what I was being told, in an oh, so cool, fashion, to "try and land before dark".
Anyway, the trip was a lark, the flight home was uneventful, I piled up a lot of flying time on the trip, and got some pictures of fish big enough for a fish story.
Oh yes.....at the end of the summer I tallied up my earnings.... I got 400 hours of flight time on international flights.....and I only lost $10 overall after expenses.....It was hard to say who got the better deal...my boss or me. Certainly it was great fun. (This is why pilots are rich for those of you who want to follow this career path)