What a tour! A day flying the line crowds eight hours of lofty shenanigans dodging tropical cumulonimbus, dark and foreboding with spectacular displays of purple forked lightning, fully entertained with the exasperation in fellow aviators strained voices, pointlessly arguing with Tanzanian air traffic control in Dar es Salaam's hectic airspace. This is Africa, just go with the flow boys. The African sun is oppressive and scorching and the heat in the cockpit nearly unbearable, the humidity draining, but we are having the times of our lives. We smile knowing the choices we've made have brought us here, not wishing or waiting or wanting of anything, just enjoying the right here and now. This life as a helicopter pilot is a pretty damn good one. And if I'm not flying the line, I'm taking out the Search and Rescue bird for training and recurrency sorties, struggling to organize boat availability with ship Captains, or perhaps just playing in the bay of Mtwara, hovering exercises with little reference (no auto-hover in our bird) and tight low level SAR circuits, rescuing dedicated mannequins or hoisting crew to small coral formations along the shoreline. Africa is not for everyone and turnover is high, and there always seems to be a need to train up new guys for the intricacies of hoisting over open water and heaving boat decks. Search and Rescue flying is the most fun I've had in helicopters in years, and instructing just gives me that much more exposure. I'm smiling. Life is good.
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