September 3 2005
I flew three trips between Kisangani and Buta today. The payload was 2900 kilos of bagged cement. What it is used for I do not know.
Buta is 142 nautical miles north of kisangani, a one hour flight, and the first two trips were uneventful with good weather and clear skies. On the second trip back into Kisangani, about 1400 hours local, I noticed the clouds were beginning to build. The area between Kisangani and Buta often builds big thunderstorms, so I looked at the clouds closely. I decided they did not look to be building as fast as they might and I could safely make the third trip to Buta. There might be a storm or two but they would most likely be small and widely spaced.
That is exacly what happened. My evaluation of the weather perfect. I deliverd those last 19 bags of cement to Buta and got the Caravan back to Kisangani where it needed to be. There were only a few storms that were easily avoided. I was a big hero with the customer and with our staff in Kisangani.
Bad show on my part; bad show.
My plan worked perfectly but it depended on a perfect evaluation of the weather. I did not allow for the weather being worse than my prediction, as it easily could have been. In that case the plane would have been stuck in Buta with no fuel and the whole sked for the next week would have been disrupted while we waited for it to be trucked in.
I should have waited until the next day. There would have been some mild disappointment but who cares.
We have to be conservative around here because there is no weather prediction for anywhere, no radar except what you have on the airplane and only about 7 places in the whole congo with fuel available. Give me another few decades and I will get this flying thing down.
I like flying around here though because it is entertaining. Our Kisangani base manager told me he prays for my safe return every time I go somewhere. They never did that for me at the airline. When we were refueling the airplane, about 8 litres of fuel spilled on the concrete ramp. Two guys ran up, sopped up the fuel with rags and wrung them out into bottles; fuel for the lamps of Africa. They handled fuel spills differently at Chicago O'Hare, not nearly as much fun.
Buta is 142 nautical miles north of kisangani, a one hour flight, and the first two trips were uneventful with good weather and clear skies. On the second trip back into Kisangani, about 1400 hours local, I noticed the clouds were beginning to build. The area between Kisangani and Buta often builds big thunderstorms, so I looked at the clouds closely. I decided they did not look to be building as fast as they might and I could safely make the third trip to Buta. There might be a storm or two but they would most likely be small and widely spaced.
That is exacly what happened. My evaluation of the weather perfect. I deliverd those last 19 bags of cement to Buta and got the Caravan back to Kisangani where it needed to be. There were only a few storms that were easily avoided. I was a big hero with the customer and with our staff in Kisangani.
Bad show on my part; bad show.
My plan worked perfectly but it depended on a perfect evaluation of the weather. I did not allow for the weather being worse than my prediction, as it easily could have been. In that case the plane would have been stuck in Buta with no fuel and the whole sked for the next week would have been disrupted while we waited for it to be trucked in.
I should have waited until the next day. There would have been some mild disappointment but who cares.
We have to be conservative around here because there is no weather prediction for anywhere, no radar except what you have on the airplane and only about 7 places in the whole congo with fuel available. Give me another few decades and I will get this flying thing down.
I like flying around here though because it is entertaining. Our Kisangani base manager told me he prays for my safe return every time I go somewhere. They never did that for me at the airline. When we were refueling the airplane, about 8 litres of fuel spilled on the concrete ramp. Two guys ran up, sopped up the fuel with rags and wrung them out into bottles; fuel for the lamps of Africa. They handled fuel spills differently at Chicago O'Hare, not nearly as much fun.
posted by Carl at 1:37 AM
0 Comments:
Post a Comment
<< Home