A Good Day's Flying

It was a good day's flying yesterday, once again taking to the heavy humid skies over the lush jungles of Gabon after enjoying a few weeks of a splendidly crisp Canadian autumn.  Mornings of frost and cold feet, breathtaking hues of deep oranges, reds and yellow as our East Coast hardwoods shed their foliage, signalling the coming of winter, I'm now back to the heat, back to the equator, back to Africa. Due to local airport construction and notamed daily closures, we set down on a jungle strip to the south to spend a lazy afternoon languishing in the heat.  There were no taxis to be had in the little village whose sole raison d'être is black crude, so we flagged down a smiling local in a beat up Toyota, windows permanently open or closed or missing entirely, doors tied shut with yellow twine, that drove along tilting heavily to the right and pointing about thirty degrees left of track as we creaked down the surprisingly perfect tarmac.  We negotiated a fee to find some elephants, known to be everywhere around town, in people's back yards upending garbage cans, stepping on flowers, creating harmless mayhem but loved nevertheless, and our new friend took in the hapless tourists for a tour of the area.  He recounted tall tales of elephants everywhere; why just that morning twenty crossed the road to the airport delaying scheduled flights, gorillas walked about regularly, scaring the daylights out of the lady folk, beating their chests before disappearing into the dense foliage, and he'd seen a panther only a few days before.  We rolled our eyes but listened politely, as his good nature was infectious.  We used our fancy pilot uniforms and a bit of self-imposed importance to sneak through security into one of the oil company compounds, our mode of transport raising eyebrows, then once again, flashing smiles, acting lost, feigning innocence, we managed to score some fine grub for ourselves and our driver from the oil company kitchen.

The afternoon flight back to base was to be one of my best flights in a very long while, right up there with flying Search and Rescue exercises with the Surinamese Coast Guard, landing on mountain pinnacles with a wood bladed Bell 47, long lining with a 206, water bucketing...ah hell, it's all awesome...but yesterday's flight was special.  As we careened over the Gabon jungle in our Super Puma, and crossed marshes with herds of water buffalo and elephant, rivers with crocodiles and hippos, I smiled....happy beyond reason.

Back at base no one has been able to locate the cel phone left by my back to back.  We can't find it anywhere, even though we know where it was supposed to have been left.  We figure it's time to give up when I get a call from the missing phone, with some unknown fellow demanding 20,000 Central African CFA francs for it's return!  We refuse to send the money as requested and ask our wily friend to come and collect the money himself.  Could he be so stupid?  He is, and he does, and obviously we all recognize our own night security guard.  Needless to say, we recovered our phone, didn't pay a cent, and he lost his job.

Off today and watching rugby with the boys, maybe hit the beach later.  Looking forward to another good day of flying.....

Damn Oil Prices

This isn't my first foray into a market of depressed oil prices, having started in the industry in the oil glut of the 80's.  Prices dropped from a preposterous $35 a barrel to below $10, and yet I still managed to find a flying job with 100 hours under my belt and the ink still wet on my licence….so forgive me if I don't panic.  But still, the market uncertainty is a pain in the ass, as I'm holding off on splurging for that 16 speaker sound system for my old Subaru.  Not to mention there's a gorgeous walnut-stocked Sako 85 Bavarian 30-06 in the shop just up the road, but all excessive spending just has to wait until the market solidifies considerably.  I’ve been on four base closures in the past twelve months, yet here I am.  I’m probably a tad more acclimatized to impending career implosion than most.  But it sounds like Gabon, considered to be Central Africa (not "West Africa”, as I've been corrected), might just keep me occupied for awhile.  Forever reading every oil industry expert’s forecast about just where the cost of a barrel is headed and when gets me nowhere, and I think I’ll just cut back on the spending and take it one job at a time....

Quick story…Perhaps I'm just a tad slow, not sufficiently aware of the risks that lurk around every corner, not overly affected by all the media’s fear mongering, overly trusting in my fellow man’s common courtesy, despite his or her’s skin colour or financial situation, but I don’t know how some people manage to function with such a dark view of the world around them.  We generally don’t work in the real nasty spots.  I doubt most of my postings would even rate in Robert Young Pelton’s “World’s Most Dangerous Places”, but I certainly do venture well outside of the common tourist haunts, and I frequently frequent those places that most would advise to steer well clear.  Fond memories on the edge.  Certain night clubs in Mombasa come to mind.  Bombs have gone off under tourist vans nearby or in the next hotel down the beach, there’s been the odd kidnapping in the vicinity, I’ve circumnavigated and walked right through more than a few riots, heard grenades and machine guns, seen some dead bodies, but it’s not like we are navigating active war zones.  Yet some of the professed tough guys get really nervous when they are ever so slightly out of their element.  I’m often surprised by just how nervous some guys get, especially considering their backgrounds.

I was walking with one fellow in a small town nestled in the jungles of South America, and he kept remarking nervously on the obvious lack of Caucasians and the odd crack-whore stumbling out of alleys as we walk along on a gorgeous sunny afternoon.  He rambles on about how we really shouldn't be in this part of town....and I can hear the nervousness build in his voice.  I try to reassure him that there's no need to worry, it's mid-day, and no one is paying us any mind, everyone is just getting on with their day, relax...but no, it's just too much and he wants to head back to safer territory.  I relent, just as two young blonde Dutch girls ride by on their bikes, smiling happily, probably not even twenty, woven baskets on the handlebars, flowers in their hair no doubt...they ride by and wave.  He may have been a tad embarrassed with his overt concern.  The point is, just relax, smile, be easy going, don’t get upset, be polite but firm if anyone gets aggressive, and you’ll be fine.   People are busy enough with their own shit.  I’ve seen local lads approach friendly enough, then as their comfort grows, so does their aggression, and you have to know when to check it, as things can escalate quickly.  You get to know when to walk away before things get out of hand, when to push back, when to go apeshit…

Relaxing at home, quite enjoying a National Geographic.  Talk about feeding the imagination of youth!  Pouring through years and years of issues at my Grandmother’s, dreaming of a world so far removed from my own.  Daring not to hope.  I could live a thousand lives struggling to capture National Geographic moments.  In this age of internet, 4G, Netflix, Facebook and iPhones, with attention spans so short one appreciates our autonomic nervous functions rattling along splendidly without our input, I take pleasure in holding the glossy pages of National Geographic's colourful and dense little magazines, sitting by the window with a hot coffee dreaming of other worlds.  They knocked it out of the park this October, with a Daring Journey on the Congo, and Uncovering A Lost City, plus Trekking Glacial Wild's of Sweden and Canada's own West Coast Sea Wolves.  Last month it was Ivory Pouching and climbing in Myanmar.  Who doesn’t appreciate a little adventure on a cool autumn afternoon.

Headed back to Africa Tuesday…….