Just one of those mornings....

I had no idea what time it was as I stumbled through the dark to my phone only that it wasn't yet light outside. I looked at the caller ID...Bob P....the Managing Director. "Morning Bob", I managed to mumble into the phone. He chuckled at my grogginess and said, "We have a flight to Maun. They called at midnight but I figured I would let you sleep as long as possible." "That was nice of you...by the way what time is it anyway?" "5:20", came the reply. I have been very happy with the motorbike that I have been using to commute to work here but as I opened the door and stepped into an incredibly clear and cold predawn darkness, a vehicle with a heater sounded like a really great idea. And then, about half way through a very long, cold, and dark ride to the airport it occurred to me that the airplane needed gas. We had gotten back from South Africa the night before after dark, and Air BP has been refusing to fuel us after dark due to poor lighting conditions on our end of the ramp. By the time I arrived at the hangar the sky was lightening in the east so I thought I would give Air BP a call and see if they would come fuel us or if it was still too dark. I was pleased when they agreed to fuel us and said they would "be right there". However, apparently what they meant when they said they would "be right there"was that they would "be right there" after they fueled two or three of Air Botswana's airplanes. So, it was over an hour later before we were finally able to spin our engines and taxi out and I felt a real sense of relief at finally being on our way as the landing gear retracted into their wells. That relief lasted until, about 30 seconds later when Brian said "Whoa, look at that!" while indicating the right wing. Fuel was spewing out around the right main tank filler cap. The cap was on and appeared secure but apparently wasn't seated right since we were losing large quantities of fuel around the edges. "Oh crap" I sighed. "Tell the tower we need to return." 45 minutes later, with our lost fuel replaced and our caps all secure we finally lifted off to Maun. As we reached our cruising altitude of 20,000 ft I switched on the autopilot and grabbed the thermos. I was halfway through a cup of coffee and a breakfast bar and finally starting to relax when Brian said "Uh oh.", while staring out the right window. "Uh oh??" I inquired while trying to see around Brian's head to what had captured his attention. He leaned back and pointed to the nacelle tank cap which now had fuel streaming back from it. The quantity of fuel being lost was nothing compared to the first leak and being that we were half way between Gabs and Maun with no viable alternates available we reached the inevitable decision to continue to Maun. There is no way to tell how much fuel we lost on the way but upon arrival in Maun an inspection of the cap revealed that the sealing surface inside the filler neck was slightly bent. The mechanic was doubtful that that could have caused the leak but could find no other explanation. He replaced the cap and reccommended that we replace our fuel cap o-rings as soon as we got back to Gabs. From that point forward the day was thankfully uneventful but it'd been a heck of a morning.

Pictures...

Well, for those of you who are on Facebook these pictures aren't anything new but to everyone else you might not have seen these yet. http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=26224&l=8ff06&id=658493576 Enjoy!

On call....

The view of out the side cockpit window of the King Air was of absolute blackness below, a spectacular field of stars above, and in between a vague silhouette of the wing and engine nacelle with a smudge of white hot exhaust blurring out of the inboard exhaust port. I was struck by the absolute blackness, the total absence of light in the Kalahari below. It was around 8pm and we were about half way between Gabs and Maun. I hadn't expected to get called out so late. My typical work day in Botswana has me going out to the airport around 9am or so. They don't want us their much earlier than that because as pilots we are limited to a 14 hour duty day whether we fly or not. So, if we get there too early and then a late call comes in for a Mercy Flight we might run out of duty time (or "turn into a pumpkin"). Yesterday morning I got to the hangar right around 9am and I spent most of the morning puttering on the motorcycle (having trouble getting the blinkers to work reliably) and then ate lunch. After lunch, I left briefly to look at furniture with Alysa and on returning spent some surfing the internet. At around 4pm, everyone was packing up for the day so I fired up the bike and headed home (blinkers working at least for the moment). I got home around 4:20 or so and I helped Alysa do the dishes. We we just discussing what to do for supper when the phone rang. It was Mark, the Director of Operations and we had an urgent call from Maun. I grabbed my bag and some snacks to bring along in lieu of supper and was heading out the door when my phone rang again. This time it was Brian, the first officer and he wanted to remind me to bring an overnight bag just in case we couldn't get home that night. I rushed back into the house and threw some clothes and a toothbrush into a bag just as Brian roared up in front of the house (he lives right down the road here in Phakalane). I hopped in and off we went. On the way in I called Briefing (the Botswanan equivalent of FSS) and filed flight plans from Gabs to Maun, Maun to Francistown, and Francistown back to Gabs. When I got to the Francistown to Gabs leg the briefer immediately questioned whether we had made arrangements to keep the tower open as we would be back after the field closes for the night. I told him that I wasn't sure what the plan was for our last leg but I wanted the flight plan on file anyway. When we arrived at the airport Brian headed out to the airplane to preflight while I got the paperwork together. About the time that we were ready the paramedics showed up and climbed aboard and we were off. When we were about 90 miles south, the lights of Maun appeared on the horizon and as we came up on town, we started looking for the airport. I had never been to Maun after dark so I wasn't much use and for whatever reason they don't put beacons on their airports here, even if they have lit runways. Anyone who has flown at night into a city airport knows that even if you know where the airport is it is devilishly hard to see the runway unless you are more or less lined up with it, so I had to have Brian (who knew where the field was) talk me onto a base before I finally spotted the field. The ambulance was waiting for us on the ramp at Maun and before the props had even stopped spinning began backing up the the airplane. A nurse got out of the ambulance holding a blanket and was followed by a young African woman in a hospital gown. It took me a moment to realize that the young woman was not the patient but the real patient was the smallest baby I have ever seen, wrapped in the blanket carried by the nurse. Immediately the paramedics but an oxygen mask on the baby who was very premature and suffering from respiratory distress. While they got settled, I got on the phone with Mark. We were not going to make it back to Gabs before the airport closed so he informed me that he had arranged a hotel for the four of us in Francistown. As soon as mom and baby were settled into the back we spun the engines and were off to Francistown. Upon arrival in Francistown, an ambulance met us and while they got mom and baby settled, Brian and I secured the airplane. Then we all piled into the ambulance and took off, lights and sirens to the hospital. When we arrived at the hospital, Brian and I stayed in the ambulance while the driver and the paramedics brought mom and baby inside. And then we waited. And waited. About 45 minutes later the paramedics and driver returned and when I inquired as to the delay the paramedic informed me casually that just after getting into the hospital the baby had stopped breathing but they had managed to resuscitate and stabilize her. When I asked if she would make it, the paramedic shrugged and said that if she made it through the night she would stand a good chance. I doubt I will ever know if she ultimately lived or died but what is certain is that without our late night airplane ride she would have died in Maun. It feels good to be a part of that.

My license...

My Botswanan License next to my US "Credit Card" License

The First Page of my Botswanan License

I thought I would post some pictures of my Botswana Pilot's License just because it is so different. The inside is a dozen pages or so with my various ratings and endorsements.