ACP

It's all about the flying.  Pull pitch, engines whine, blades eat air and the whole noisy mess launches into the blue.  If you're not in it to get airborne, for that bird's eye view of your piece of the planet, I really don't see the point.  ACP, TRE, TRI; it all just gets me up with the birds that much more.  I recall six months into my first offshore gig, the boss asking me if I'd like to take on a training role, as I was rather keen and no doubt, driving him nuts.  There were guys with bags of hours, but they couldn't be bothered.  I figured as long as the training contributed to my time up, up and away, I was all over it.  I received some training myself; how to teach, how to introduce and manage simulated emergencies, etc. and I was soon signed off as an instructor.  You'll get much more flying if you've got some training acronym in your title, as you'll get the lion's share of the flying on most any offshore oil support base.  Generally every time there's a new pilot on base, and turnover can be quite high on the rougher postings (I'm really not sure what guys expect when they get into this), they often require a fair bit of training, and depending on their background, they may have to fly the line with a training guy for awhile, so you'll get tons of hours trying to get new guys up to speed.  Then there's check rides and line checks, and currency requirements to be met.  If you like flying, get into training.  Now there are training posts where you don't fly at all, like running manufacturer or company training programs full time in a simulator, which is a great job depending on your situation, but for now, kicking around the four corners of the globe trying my damnedest to emulate Indiana Jones, the extra time airborne in addition to flying paxs out to rigs is fine by me.  I've now got bags of hours doing a myriad of different things and I quite enjoy passing on what I've learnt over the past three decades of wrestling these noisy contraptions up into the blue.

On a recent ACP refresher course in Vancouver, I was surprised at the amount of psychology that comes into play.  Sure, you have a standard to maintain, and your job is to ascertain that the pilot is up to the task, and can safely manage a flight, as safety of the travelling public is paramount, but we spent a great deal of the course going over just how to determine where the deficiencies lie, and how to correct them.  We don't get into pilot's relationships with their mothers, but we may try to help them understand that the mistake made was due to some poor cockpit resource management skill, like not prioritizing or operating single pilot when you've got a First Officer sitting beside you twiddling his thumbs.  It was only a refresher for me, but it's always enlightening.  Some of the techniques come naturally, as most of the guys in the room had been instructing for as long, if not longer, than I have, but I did come away with a renewed arsenal of tools to keep the standard where it's supposed to be.  And safe.

As long as I get flying....

Fasten Seat Belts

I never saw much of the Addis Ababa terminal the first time I was through Ethiopia, enroute to Mombasa over a year ago, for I was met by smiling Ethiopian Airlines staff as I stepped off the Dreamliner from Toronto over four hours late, my name boldly in marker on a cardboard sheet.  I had long given up on making my connection, settling into that hapless feeling of resignation of a situation beyond my control, but I soon found myself heading down onto the tarmac, jumping into a waiting pickup truck, and was whisked across the ramp directly to my Kenya bound bird, loaded with passengers albeit for my empty seat, patiently standing by for yours truly.  My bag actually made it as well!  That's very good service!  The second time I flew through Ethiopia I was unpleasantly surprised by the Addis Ababa domestic terminal's horrendous Africa toilet story a few posts back, but this time, thankfully, this time it’s the International terminal, with a convenient and well decked out Gold member lounge with all the amenities and late night grub one could hope for.  

Relaxing in the plush business lounge with free halibut steaks in a marinara sauce, rice, fresh vegetables  and a fine Chianti, I did a double take when the spitting image of a very good mate, only thirty years his senior, looking cool and stylish, took the seat beside me.  I kept looking over, trying not to be too obvious, perhaps some industrial accident had turned all my pal's hair white as snow, but it turned out to be someone else.  I texted my pal;  "you’re going to be the shit when you get older".  He seemed to appreciate the dubious glimpse into his future.

For some reason Ethiopian Airlines is not on our company’s preferred airline list, but I’m quite impressed with the airline.  Flying modern birds, with one of the world's largest fleets of the new Dreamliners, smacking of cleanliness and newness, friendly service, convenient routes....what’s not to like?  Of course there was the Ethiopian Airline's pilot who locked himself in the cockpit and hijacked his own plane and headed for Europe for asylum, the same day I was on one of their aircraft headed somewhere else, but I'm sure he had his reasons.  Despite their impeccable style, things sometimes do go awry.  When our wheels touched down in London after eight uneventful hours from Addis Ababa, very, very smoothly I might add, one hapless fellow had his seat belt off, carry on recovered from the overhead bin, and was careening down the aisle for the exit, as the oleos were still busy compressing on the gear.  Within seconds, at least half the other passengers, seeing buddy jump the queue, were up and grabbing their bags and heading for the door as well, as we continued down the runway still over a hundred knots.  People stumbled and fell as the pilot braked to exit the runway, and still people were getting up and the aisles were soon full of pushy swearing stumbling passengers.  Sitting belted, quite enjoying the show, I half expected one of the stewardess to bark some warning for everyone to sit back down, but no, we taxied and turned and braked and people stumbled for at least another twenty minutes before we were finally parked at our gate and the fasten seat belt sign turned off.  I have never seen people in such a hurry to get off such a fine airliner.

After a few days of brutal travel, I'm now in Vancouver on an Approved Check Pilot renewal course, with quite a few old friends in the classroom with me.  War stories, industry news and catching up, all the while recovering from jet leg and I don't know how many thousands of miles.....

$18 G&T

Baking in the heat poolside with some Bombay Sapphire and tonic, the tinkle of ice in a tilted glass. A good book.  Life is a splendid thing, sitting on rooftops contemplating the world's woes, retrospective glances at perfect moments. Losing my train of thought with an unwelcome bout of sneezing, fuck sakes.  Another tour down and headed home, at yet another hotel in yet another town as this first connection is a long one, checked in and dug my swim trunks out of the bag.  My last chance to soak up some rays in West African humidity before heading back to Canada.  I quite enjoy this life, not so much the offshore oil, other than the romantic appeal of exploration, classically involved in the worldwide quest for resources, but my own little piece of the pie, my perspective, flying noisy old Super Pumas and gauges and switches, the scent of jet fuel and hydraulic oil, and rooftop reflection.  Refreshing farmer's snort to clear the head and stem the sneezing as there is no one else up here, and all is right as rain once again.  I'm always enjoying myself, positive, hoping it's infectious but one can't be bothered with what anybody thinks if one wishes to be true to oneself.  Just be me and let go.  I don’t have it figured out but sharing the journey just might help someone else.  Sometimes allowing myself to think large and but mostly thinking small, more immediate.  Everything is more immediate in Africa. 

But that's the gin talking, and l'addition is soon delivered setting me straight.  

Last week while fixing my window the local lad dropped my Leatherman and broke one of the key features, so I gave it to him and started looking online for a replacement.  What do I need in a do it all tool for touring?  Heavy duty kick ass pocket knife well covered with my DPX HEST/F 2.0.  Things I have needed over the years; pliers, scissors to trim my ever growing ear and nostril hair, glasses screwdriver to fix my forever falling apart Suriname Carreras, bottle opener, cork screw, various screwdrivers, wire cutter….and guess what? Leatherman makes something that exactly fits the bill!  A Leatherman with a corkscrew???  Life just keeps getting better!

Last bare foot walk on a Gabonese beach prior to leg two.  Ethiopia tonight.  Wahoo!

Another tour under my belt

I'm nearing the end of yet another tour, in yet another corner of the globe, and it's been a rather quick one.  Forty-two days is never absolute, as time compresses and stretches depending on so many variables.  I had never been to Gabon before, it was the first time I've met about half the guys on this job, I had never flew an L2 before, despite my simulator time and L/L1 experience, and we had a new base of operations to set up.  There were excitements and challenges and adventure to be had, and it was all new.  It was one of the quickest forty-two days in recent memory.

I've only a couple of days left, all my homeward flights and hotels are sorted, and packing won't take me but a few minutes.   I'll still be busy.  I'm still covering the line and flying, and I have an Approved Check Pilot refresher course in Vancouver the Monday after I return home, and I just received a rather brutal exam that I have to have finished beforehand. I have over three long days of travel ahead of me; a charter flight to the capital and an overnight, a five hour flight to Ethiopia, arriving in the middle of the night, then an eight hour haul to London in the wee hours of the morning, five hours killing time in the Star Alliance Gold Lounge at Heathrow, then another seven hour flight to Halifax, my own bed for one night then I'm flying across Canada for another ten hours of travel.

But, that's the job.  The pay is decent, and the experiences are like nothing you could ever attain as a tourist visiting these places.  First you get to places that few tourists ever see, you are living and working amongst locals for weeks at a time, you make friends and connections and see how lives are lived so very far removed from one's own, it can't help but change you.  I love Gabon.  It is still Africa but it is more familiar than East Africa, less immediate, more relaxed.  I wish I could afford to stay on for a few more weeks and takes treks and boats deep into the interior and see all the country has to offer, but I have commitments and people waiting for me back home.

And I'll be back in October......

Coffee and Cologne

So one of the guys working on the hangar floor walks into the flight office today and comments;
"It smells like pilots in here; coffee and cologne."  I can't help but smile.

At my favourite restaurant with the resident rat (I'm assuming there's just the one), we asked the owner if she knew anyone with a boat, and she hooked us up with Paul, a local Frenchman that has lived in Gabon most of his life.  We gave him a call and haggled over prices and soon had a marlin and barracuda fishing trip booked off the coast of Gabon!  I conjured up images of Ernest Hemingway and "To Have and Have Not", and pictured myself looking like the old man of the sea himself in one of those deep sea fishing boats like I'd seen moored around the Hemingway resort North of Mombasa, Kenya, the ones I could not afford for a day at sea but admired longingly.  All geared up for the day, we made our way to the small wharf and looked for the smurf blue deep sea fishing vessel.  Well, turns out it wasn't that sort of a boat.  It was more of a big fibreglass canoe.  First there was the total lack of shade, and of course it was the first day I'd seen any sun in Gabon, with the skies a deep azure blue, and nary a breeze.  We doubted it even had a bar.  But damn it, we were going deep sea fishing!

The small boat pounded happily over the swells as we headed far out to sea in the early morning, whales frolicking everywhere, but try as I might I just could not capture one breaching and slapping his tale, often within metres of our boat.  That's the best shot I got.

The best shot I managed all day was a couple of tortoises making whoopy far offshore.  They didn't seem at all concerned about the cheering fishermen, as they were obviously lost in tortoise passion, and couldn't be bothered.

Five hours later we drifted back into port, having snagged a few sandbars on the way in, most everyone sunburnt, and without one bite to brag about.

It was a fun day out nevertheless!  I've been deep sea fishing off the coast of Africa!