Packing

Woo hoo!  That was a fun morning!  My good buddy Jay arrived at base this week, and as my touring back to back TRE, we've arranged our schedules to overlap by a few days so we can train and check each other, and it just so happens we were both due for some recurrent training.  We fired up the sleek and sexy AW139 and headed off into the azure blue Tanzanian sky, failing engines and simulating fires and throwing every sort of emergency we could come up with at each other, and as always, it was a blast. I couldn't fathom a better way to spend the last day of my tour.  Then there was a base meeting where management reiterated the new restrictions to base life, and as the freedom of the base was one of it's redeeming features, I'm now putting out feelers for other options.  I've turned down quite a few different postings over the past two years, but I'm now looking with interest at what is available out there.  I've sort of tied myself into this remote spot with the TRE post and SAR instructing, as most bases don't have a SAR component, but I've got a few strings that hopefully I can pull.   Over two years in East Africa on the highest turnover base in the company, I think I'm due for a change, but I won't hold my breath either.  We'll see.  Regardless, hopefully by this time tomorrow I'm lounging around a resort pool in Dar es Salaam waiting for my flight to Istanbul, maybe sipping on a dawa or two, then on to Canada and home!

The end is near.....

This guy's look pretty much captures how I'm feeling right now....watching the hours creep past, wishing I was somewhere else.  It's been a very stressful tour for numerous reasons and I'm ready to head back to Canada.  The base personnel and management have changed significantly, due to the obscene pace of turnover here, and so has the mood.  Base rules have been changed, driving oneself is now discouraged, and being here is not really fun anymore.  The sewage is backed up at the hangar, and the converted sea-can offices are mold infested and unfit, so there's nowhere to go to escape the olfactory assault.  Back at our sparse accommodations, on the Southern Tanzanian border so very far removed from the lush resorts of Mombasa, the sewage tank is dug up as well, so there is no escaping the stench of shit, nor is there any escaping the mud and sand and humidity, no escaping the din of incessant rap music over speakers clipping with excessive volume, no escaping the sullen stares, and the locals stare so unabashed, so brazenly.  Respite can be found heading to the beach and floating serenely in the warm waters of the Indian Ocean, washing off the mud and sweat, drawing out the heat and humidity, as the waves lap the rocks rhythmically, smiling fisherman paddling past in carved out logs, living as man has lived for eons.  Then it's back to our stinky hotel and there's no running water, so you eat supper and crawl into bed, your skin rough with salt.  I am ready to go home.

My good buddy Gonzalo and I still hike to the beach for a swim daily, and there's always the flying.  You can count on flying to change one's mood.  I have a bunch of training scheduled for tomorrow, with another TRE.  We will have fun.  Then it's packing and begin the long journey home. Maybe just a hard reset of six weeks in Canada will cure the melancholy.  Some tours fly by, some not so much.  C'est la vie....

Dudes

While the world is enthralled with the search for Malaysia's Flight MH370, now missing for over two weeks, we keep plugging away in Kenya, checking the reported progress and theories as regularly as everyone else, internet permitting.  There have been plenty of headaches this tour, with struggling to secure aircraft for training sorties from our maintenance department, struggling with the drill ship to release boat decks for SAR training, or to free up crews to man their helideck for night landing recurrencies, but it's all par for the course.  I did manage to complete another Commander upgrade late last night (damn it was dark), so I'm quite pleased with what I've accomplished this tour, despite the headaches.

U.S. Army Special Forces dudes linger around our hotel and walk the beach, and we all wonder if they should maybe strive to look less conspicuous, as they stand out like sore thumbs in their tan cargo pants, black polo shirts, standard Oakley shooter glasses and g-shock watches, all with scruffy long hair and unshaved, like right out of the movies.  Our ex-Brit Special Forces security instructor, brought in to teach us how to survive in areas like Mombasa, spent years in Northern Ireland undercover, and he was most definitely the "grey man", trained to NOT stand out.  But those flashy American boys did manage to find some bomb makers in Somalia, tracked them into Mombasa, and the local newspaper's were full of the big arrest; terrorists caught red handed with bombs in the car, near the airport, target unspecified.  Good job guys!  While I was in Italy the Pentagon announced they were heavily boosting their presence in East Africa to combat growing terrorist cells, and it's readily apparent with the steady stream of heavy lift military aircraft through Mombasa, plus the non-descript white King-Airs that always seem to accompany breaking news.  One of our guys actually made the snide comment "great idea guys, kick the hornet's nest".  I was not impressed with his passive attitude.  Kick away boys.  Stomp up and down on that hornet's nest!

I haven't posted much lately due to very, very sporadic or non-existent internet.  It's extremely frustrating and depressing to realize how dependant I am on being connected, but there wasn't much I could do about it.  There was plenty of excitement in Mombasa, lots to write about; prepping for our return to Mtwara, Tanzania, the packing, the ruffled feathers and short tempers, being whisked through the impossibly crowded airport, bypassing sweaty, angry tourists pushing and shoving their way through check-in and passport control and security check after security check, the ferry flight itself, seven thousand feet dodging build ups and taking some rather awesome photos of each other's aircraft, arriving back in Mtwara to zero internet once again, for even our kick-ass company system was down, our hangar moldy and musty, the toilets out of service, rain and mud and mosquitoes.  I wanted to write about the hawk in the helicopter's exhaust one morning, the circle of Kenyan Airways employees exercising on the beach in front of our hotel, the beautiful full moon rising over the Indian Ocean as we sat on couches on the beach at Coco's, drinking refreshing Dawas and telling stories of life back home, the Mombasa roads closing for the Presidential Cavalcade, and our driver tucking into the line of cars bearing fluttering flags, somehow accepting us as I'm seated in the front seat with my uniform shirt, Captain bars and Ray-Bans, all of us laughing and waving at the crowds as we pass Presidential well wishers for thee quickest drive from the airport ever.  Soon I'll be back home again with fast and reliable internet, but very little to write about, but not really caring, it's been a long tour.

 

Internet Woes

I do enjoy instructing, but for the amount of SAR sorties I've been flying this tour, I've been getting very little hands on.  I was actually brought in early this tour to prepare one new hire for his check ride, and to prepare him for flying offshore with us, as well as complete two Captain upgrades, a pile of SAR recurrencies, and hopefully complete two SAR Captain upgrades (one done!).  Passing along one's experience and knowledge is why most of us take up instructing in the first place, but I'll admit to being more selfish.   The main reason I got into the instructing end of things was to get more flying in, and instructing while flying the line full time has certainly increased my time airborne.  I love flying!  I hope my love of flying is infectious, and I do my best to give everything I can to those receiving my tutelage, but I want to get my hands on the controls too!  Luckily I got some hoisting to boat decks in last week, as well as fishing some specialized training "drums" from open water.  It's can be quite challenging considering the sea state, what one can get for visual references to check drift, as our SAR birds don't have the optional SAR auto-hover kit, so it's all hands on below 65 knots.  SAR flying is so much better than the airport to rig and back again "airline-like" flying of offshore exploration support, and if I could find a way to get into it full time, I'd be all over it.  I've done a ton of SAR flying this tour, but the vast majority was from the left seat instructing.....but I'm still having fun!

We are still operating out of Mombasa, Kenya, for little over a week longer then heading South again.  Everybody is enamoured with our luxurious accommodations, but frustrated with the tedious commutes and security checks everywhere.  Our quiet little Tanzanian backwater base on the Mozambique border, with it's dirt roads and rough hotel, is missed by many.  And the internet....

Mtwara it was almost non-existent, so the company put in our own kick-ass system, as Skype calls to home, as well as everything one does with our company is done online, and we all expected decent internet access in a high end resort in Mombasa, or in the large, modern International airport, but it is not to be.  I've changed rooms a few time trying to get access, or walk around with laptop under arm from pool to lobby to restaurant to try to find a connection, which may last for twenty minutes or so before you have to go looking again.  Ten hours standby at the airport with no internet access is equally frustrating, for I have many online courses to complete, my taxes needed to be done, and I needed to upload photos to friends and family, or even to my blog.  My family gave me a GoPro for Christmas, but with the state of connectivity, it's nigh impossible to share anything.  Anyone notice the lack of posts?

Shrug one's shoulders and read a book instead.....

Tsavo East, Kenya

Finally, a night shift!  With all the training and having to cover SAR, I've been getting very few, but when I did, woo hoo!  Talking to our local drivers, always thee most connected and the best source of information about areas to avoid, riots, pending trouble, hot spots not to miss, best haircut, where to exchange money, etc. they were shocked at the prices the resort was asking for day trips to Tsavo East National Park.  One offered the services of a trustworthy friend, at one quarter of the cost of the hotel tours to Tsavo. The driver arranged for a 5:30am pickup as it's over two hours to the Tsavo East Voi gate, and we had to be back in time to cover the night shift.  Alarms were set, gear was packed before bed, and we were there bright eyed and ready for action, but no driver.  We later discover that our driver Ali has gone off to pray so we stand patiently by his van until 5:50.  When I politely asked why he asked us to be ready for 5:30 when he intended to head off for twenty minutes of prayer, he smiled brightly, nodded, and motioned to enter his van. "We go now" was all that was offered as explanation.  We smile as we all know our Western concept of time just doesn't wash in Africa.  Best to just accept and roll with it.

Our driver was extremely non aggressive, and we felt very safe despite the condition of our dilapidated and rattling van, but.....we were forever getting stuck behind long lines of heavy trucks bound for Uganda, hauling produce from Mombasa's port into the heart of Africa, creeping up the many inclines at a walking pace, old engines straining and pumping out copious amounts of black smoke, and we are steadily being passed by everyone and anything.  We are unsure if our driver has figured out exactly how the gas pedal functions, for he constantly pushes it down to the floor, the engine and our old van surging forward, and he then drops the pedal, the engine eases, we lurch forward in our seats as the van slows, and he immediately pounds it to the floor again, surge, relax, surge, relax and repeat ad naseum.   We plod along seemingly unable to pass anyone, despite everyone else doing so with ease, and as the African sun creeps up over the horizon and the heat builds, we ask for the air conditioning and are told we don't have any, and the cost of the hotel tour is looking more and more acceptable.  I'd rather be looking at animals in the park than the back of a truck, but hell, it's Africa. We get there when we get there.

Relegated to our fate, we relax and tell flying stories from previous jobs, but even we are surprised when we roll up to the park gate that the two hour drive has taken over three.  Ali is off arguing with the park officials and soon we have the top up and are blasting down the dirt roads of Tsavo at a snail's pace.  Other tour vans blow by us like we aren't even moving, and I score the horizon with my Swarovskis for signs of wildlife.

We aren't hopeful as the hours creep past, but there has been rain, and the animals are not on the typical dry season watering holes, but down along the now flowing river basin.  Ali's FM radio crackles steadily with static and smatterings of Swahili from other tour vans, and after a little redirection we take a few turns and are soon deep amongst the game.

We fall in love with the raised roof concept, bouncing around the dirt roads, standing in shade but with an unencumbered view in all directions, the wind keeping us relatively cool, we laugh like school boys and it's all just too much fun.  A tap on the roof gets Ali to stop, my NEX-7 and 300mm lens snap away, we tap again twice and we're off, scouring the brush with my Swarovskis once again.

Giraffes and hartebeest, gazelles and impala, gemsbuck, bushbuck, waterbuck, springbok, lechew, gerenuk, hippos, baboons, zebras, and many, many elephants.  It turns into an amazing day.  We stop at the Voi Lodge in the park for lunch, and are mesmerized by two large lads scraping by the water hole below us.  The young bull elephants appear to be play fighting, but they still make quite a racket and it's impressive to watch. I take a gazillion photos.

Ali does his very best to put us on some cats.  Leopards are a very rare sighting indeed, and I was lucky to see a cheetah last year, as well as some lions resting in the shade after devouring an ostrich, and I even got to see a lion on a fresh kill; her face dark red with the blood of the zebra colt under her massive front paws, the parents nearby barking protest, the wild dogs approaching from a distance, but this trip it was not to be.  We chased the reports coming in over the radio but they had always moved off by the time we arrived, but considering the game we'd seen, and watching the two elephants scrap....we weren't complaining.

All too soon, it was time to head back into the traffic, back to Mombasa, back to our resort.  We hit rush hour on the outskirts of Mombasa and it's gridlock, roasting like an oven in the rancid fumes of countless vehicles vying for the smallest gap.  Lurch and quick stop, lurch and quick stop.  We drink all our water trying to stay hydrated, we are soaked and dusty and tired, and we see Ali's low fuel light blinking.  It's another hour and a half before we make home base.  Last time the drive to and from drove me so crazy I ended up taking a room at a lodge in the park and explored from there, but I daresay I got better photos on this short afternoon with Ali.  We recommended him to the rest of the crew, and didn't mention the lack of air conditioning.....

For the full photo album, all downloadable full size, please visit;
https://plus.google.com/photos/116188736389762953183/albums/5985748998952600161