Focusing without Looking
By
Jungle Jim
As usual, during the dry and monsoon seasons, I would make many flights to numerous villages. On this particular day during the monsoon season I was scheduled to deliver eight boxes of dynamite sticks, (blasting caps were always flown separately for obvious reasons), to an iron-ore mine called
“Bomi-Hills,” 80 miles north west of Spriggs Payne airfield, my home base airfield in Monrovia, Liberia West Africa.
Keep in mind this is Bushpilot flying. The weather was not good. It about a 300- foot ceiling with visibility a half-mile and raining. Whichever Bushpilot felt like going up to check the weather, he would. Since my Piper Tripacer, with a 160-HP engine in it, was like a hot rod car, (loaded with dynamite), I said, I would go. I joked what a blast it will be if I crashed. At age 23, nothing bothered me. If the weather was not to bad on top I would rev the engine high and low two times, meaning it was not too bad, telling the guys to come on up. I would then be on my way to make my delivery. If the weather was very poor, and I have had to do this many times, I would head out over the ocean, which was nearby, and let down until I could see the water. I would hold an altitude of about a hundred feet, because to go lower would be to dangerous. One cannot judge too well over water just how close the water is. Maybe a seaplane pilot could, but I was a land pilot. I would then make a 180 back to the airfield and ever, and I mean ever so slowly, lower my altitude because, once you see the breaking white caps of the waves; then, and only then, could I push the nose down fast to get right down on top of them. I would then look for the car head lights my compatriots had so generously supplied. They were there but off to my left. Throttle back, bank hard left, careful not to dip the left wing tip into the ocean! For the occasional night landings, my friends would also put a car on the airfield with headlights facing me so I could line up easier. The other Bushpilots would also put a car on the airfield at the threshold with the tail lights facing the aircraft; the headlights shining down the airfield. Of course, I would also us my landing light if the bulb was not burn out. Parts were very difficult to get.
I gave them the roaring of my engine as I passed over the airfield, and I was on my way to Bomi Hills. There was one catch. I had no idea what the weather was like between me and Bomi Hills. This is where being a Bushpilot comes in. I am all alone there is no one to talk to about weather conditions. I must figure out myself if I can go on. Well, at first things didn’t look too bad: rain, broken cloud layers, visibility varied. After 20 minutes things started to look ugly. I lost visual contact with the ground and had to go IFR, on instruments. Rain got very heavy so I started climbing in the goo, thinking I could get above some of the clouds, but luck was not with me. It was looking real black in the direction I was heading and knew it was time to turn back. At 1500 feet I started a left downward spiral. I knew there was a railroad track below me. A Bushpilot will use whatever is available to navigate by…..Railroad tracks, beaches, mountain ridges, water falls, rivers, and even the white bark of a tree. That’s another story while I was flying a Piper Apache twin, also in monsoon weather.
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