October and November 2010

Tuesday, September 28th: The phone in my Milan hotel room was ringing!
Painfully I forced myself out of my deep sleep and into semi-consciousness. It was after midnight local time .... "Flounder here" I mumbled.
"Hey Boss! Alejandro. Our next FOTM will be Solar Air Cargo flights in Venezuela, I hope you can make it. Adios!"
With that the line went dead. Why is it we LOOK at a phone when it disconnects?

Sunday, October 3rd: It was about three hours or so before dawn as I climbed into the First Officer's seat of the old DC-10 Cargo plane at Milan's Malpensa airport. So far things seems pretty quiet but I could tell that the morning rush was going to be ramping up soon. I spent at least 30 minutes running pre-flight and systems checks, going back outside for a full walk-around and programming the old-style INS/FMC for the trans-Atlantic flight to Valencia. Eventually my Captain for the flight (some Dutch guy named Geert) arrived and asked what our status was. I briefed him on our load and fuel and systems and route and ...... he seemed rather bored with the whole process. When I was finished he took a sip from his coffee and said, "That's all fine, you'll be flying this leg anyway." I supposed it was now just a couple hours before dawn and we called ATC and ground clearence, we were pushed back and I started the three engines. We then taxied out to the active and departed to the south. When cleared by ATC I turned right and proceded to climb on up to our initial altitude of 13,000. Momentarily we were cleared on up to 28,000 feet and set sights on Gibralter. I asked Geert about his flying and simming history and found out that he was a big fan of flying 737s and was quite the procedural guru - yet the actual in-the-air time really wasn't the fun part for him. Seemed odd for a pilot to not like the flying part ..... I expected dawn to come an hour or two into our long trans-Atlantic leg but all I could see was darkness. Just before leaving European ATC we were cleared to climb on up to our final cruise altitude of 36,000 feet. A couple hours later, as we approached our first Caribbean waypoint I could see some lightening of the eastern sky. I never actually saw the sun until we were descending through 10,000 feet over Caracas!
We came in over Lake Valencia, setting up for landing onto runway 28. What is it with every sim version putting Valencia airport in a hole? I hate that! Luckily I knew about this before-hand (good thing our procedural Captain wasn't at the controls!) and I stayed high-and-slow in order to clear the trees. Then, demonstrating much skill, I used the throttles to descend smoothly onto the runway centerline - just a bit of power added under 100 feet AGL to push us forward and grease the landing! We parked up just before 7 AM local time at the west end of the airport.

Having dispensed with the DC-10 and our Dutch Captain I made my way over to the Solar Air Cargo hangar and saw that they were closed Sundays. I hailed a cab and headed into town.
The next morning, Monday the 4th I made my way back out to Solar Air and met our host ..... Tony Radmilovich?
"Sorry Dude, Alejandro is out of town this month so you'll have to answer to me. Beer?"
Okay, 1: I thought Alejandro was hosting us this month.
And 2: Isn't early in the day for a beer?
Tony laughed, "Things are different down here Flounder. You'll get used to it."
Tony brought me over to the counter and laid out a large paper map of the area. "Currently you are here" he said, pointing to Valencia. "There is a guy HERE" (he pointed to ... Isle de Coche) "with some frozen shrimp. You'll need to get the shrimp to Maracaibo before they thaw or die!" With that he handed me the keys and said, "It's a old red and white twin down at the end."

A bit confused I made my way back out into the stiffling, wet heat that is Venezuela and turned the corner at the end of the Hangar. "Really?" There at the end was an old Rogue Air CV-580. I tried the key in the door and it opened. "Man, how long has it been since this thing flew?" I wondered. After two walk-arounds and some cockpit tinkering I got it started and managed to taxi out to runway 10 for departure out over the largest fresh-water lake in Venezuela.As I flew along toward Caracas I wondered how this Shrimp Larvae would smell. "Luckily it's frozen!" I thought back to the last FOTM I had submitted for Alejandro, "The Meat Haulers of La Paz" back in July 2009. "Not too far off" I thought, hauling meat around South America - again! I followed the coastline eastward, finally arriving at Coche Island I found SVIE and landed, then taxied over to the cargo ramp. As the Frozen Shrimp Larvae were being loaded I hunted around and found some lunch, then started talking with one of the locals who querried about topping off with gas at SVMG. "News to me" I said, "I think I should be fine." The man shook his head, mumbled something about "loco" and wandered off. Back into the old Convair I taxied out to the active runway and lined up. Then I reveresed the prop pitch and backed the main wheels just off the runway. I locked up the brakes and gradually applied full throttle. There was plenty of room! This time I flew along the coastline westbound all the way to Maracaibo - it's about 90 minutes in the CV580. After dropping off the still mostly frozen cargo I returned to Valencia.As I strolled confidently back into the Solar Air Cargo office I fully expected Tony to offer me another beer. There, sitting behind the desk was a guy that was even older than Mr. Radmilovich!

"You look for Tony?" He asked.
I nodded.
"He left. You'll call me Mario."
The man stood and held out his hand. "Tony said you'd be back after lunch." Mario motioned me over to the counter and paper map again. "We've just loaded a bunch of goat meat that needs to be hauled HERE."
The man pointed to another island, north off the coast. "You'll have a heavy load so will need something a bit bigger than Tony's old Convair."
With that he handed me the keys and said, "It's the only one out there in Solar Cargo Livery." After a brief nature break I made my way back outside and down the flightline to an old Curtis C-46 Commando. Saw lots of these photos in that La Paz FOTM!
The flight north to the Netherlands Antilles was quick and easy, took about 60 minutes.


The crew had the meat quickly unloaded and half of the area was filled back up with my "delivery" but the paperwork was pretty vague as to what I was to be hauling for this leg back to Valencia.

Alejandro met me on the ramp, as excited as a 3-year old on Christmas! "Are you having fun? Did the flights go well? How do you like the aircraft we have for you? Aren't you interested in flying for us some more things in the coming days?"
So many questions, I was speechless and, frankly, a bit hungry.
After a nice dinner in town Alejandro put me up in a hotel close to the airport and promised me an early start in the morning. The next thing I knew it was morning. Breakfast sat neatly on my little table and warm sunlight streamed in through open doors and windows. It was warm and outside I could hear the bustling sounds of the city. "What was in that drink?" Oddly, I felt great! I looked at my watch and saw that it was already 9 AM and I frantically stuffed breakfast down my throat and took a shower. Grabbing and gulping more food I raced to the lobby and hailed a cab back to Valencia airport. Bursting through the doors at Solar Air Cargo ...... Tim silently looked up from his desk. Then dryly asked, "Is there a problem?"
I hurridly explained that Alejandro said he'd meet me early and here it was 10 AM and I was likely too late. Tim laughed. "For Alejandro 'early' means afternoon, like 1 o'clock. But since you are here I have a flight for you if you'd like." Before I really could wrap my head around what was going on I found myself at the controls of a Handley-Page Herald heading just down the road a bit to SVSO in Santo Domingo - in back was a load of roudy college kids. Oiy!

Back at Valencia before 14:00 Alejandro met me again with a big grin. "If you thought THAT was fun, just wait" he said. "I have for you one of my favorite aircraft of all time, painted as she was at first in Venezuela." Then it was that AIr and I climbed up into the FSX version of YV-500C a nearly 70-year old DC-3 that we first met for the FOTM in January 2006. Alejandro was so excited it was all I could do to get the thing flight-ready what with all his handling and tinkering with all of the knobs and switches everywhere - It's amazing he didn't short-circuit the whole plane! Anyway, we departed Valencia in the old Dakota and headed for Bogata, Colombia.

After spending the night and next morning with our Flightsim Friend Luis, I entered the cockpit of the Flight Club's "new" Boeing 707 and headed all the way south - almost as far as South America will take you: Punta Arenas, Chile.

As I taxied to parking I was shocked to see how many other aircraft FSX was showing! Upon my arrival I was met by an airport security officer who said, "You must be here for the special operation. Right this way."

I was quickly escorted into a basement area and given an orange arm band. I tried to ask one of the attendants what was going on but he only stated, "you'll be briefed shortly." I heard others asking too. Armbands on, we were directed down a corridor and into a briefing room. There must have been nearly a hundred other sim pilots and a few important-looking people in suits milling about.

Finally a man in a suit stepped to the lecturn and the room grew quiet. "Gentlemen," he began, "we have been called here to support a critical rescue mission. Two Brazilian Researchers have been lost in the Antarctic and our job is to find them. We will all be divided up and sent out to search. Are there any questions?"

A hand was shyly raised from the middle of the croud. "Sir!" the leader acknowledged, "Question?"

"Yes, umm, excuse me for asking this but ... my aircraft only carries 4 people and I know a large commercial liner can carry like 200. How many is two brazilian? Isn't that more people than live in India?"

The laughter was deafening and then, again, silence.

"Sir" the leader calmly spoke, "we are searching for two men. Two individual men. Doesn't matter where they are from, just two of them."

"Okay ... it's just when you said 'two brazilian' I thought that sounded like a lot!"

There were skattered snickers about the room before the leader continued.

"You will all be flown down to Palmer Station tonight. It's going to be a long night so I suggest that you sleep when you can. There will be futher briefing once you arrive in Palmer."

With that he stepped off the platform and through a locked door. We were all, frankly, a bit confused but filed back out the doors, down the corridor, up a very long stairway (some of these simmers are just in tragic physical health, stopping, caughing, wheezing their way along). But for a few stragglers we all made it up to the tarmarc where, we were directed out to a couple of EMB-190s for the 700-mile flight down to Palmer Station. I grabbed a window seat and quickly started my efforts to sleep. Upon our arrival to Palmer we were quickly taken indoors (very dark and very cold here!) We were quickly divided according to the color armband we had been given previously and when I followed the group over to the matching table I was handed a blank envelope. I opened it and took out a single sheet of paper. My instructions were to fly from Palmer Station (an American base at 64.8S - 64.0W) to Marambio (64.1S - 56.4W), the nearest point to Comandante Ferraz (62.1S - 58.7W).

"You shall land in Marambio, an Argentinian base." Expect flight time approximately 45 minutes.

In the bottom of the envelope were keys, to what I did not know ...

Next we were directed to move on to the next station and I fell in line and followed the crowd down a narrow hallway and through a rest room for a nature break. We came in one door, made our pit-stop and exited out the other door and continued down the hallway to a medical clinic where we were given a cursory once-over before being moved on, down a longer hallway to a coat closet where we were given a parka, boots and snow pants. Next we shuffled (like sheep to the slaughter) through a mess hall where we were handed food and a small bag of provisions. On the one hand it seemed like we were moving right along from one area to the next but SO VERY SLOWLY. The process was taking hours! Finally the hallway we were directed down let to a doorway to outside! It was still cold and dark - the fog was beginning to freeze and we were all putting down our kit-bags and getting on our snow gear.

The overhead speakers continually announced, "Please board the bus that matches the number on your key." It said this in about five languages, repeating over and over:

"Please board the bus that matches the number on your key."

"Abordar por favor el camión que empareja el número en su llave".

"Besteigen Sie bitte den Bus, der der Zahl auf Ihrer Taste anpasst."

"لطفا این شورا که اتوبوس را در مسابقات به عدد 2."

“请登上匹配你的钥匙上的数字的公共汽车。”

"Пожалуйста сядьте на автобус, который соответствует числу на вашем ключе."

"Please board the bus that matches the number on your key."

Finally the bus arrived with numbers 9-19. I boarded, still a bit confused. We drove through the darkness of pre-dawn, through a security gate and onward. Finally we stopped near a DC-3. "Number nine" the driver called out.

Next was an old Antonov. "Number ten".

Each of us began peering ahead to see what our plane might be but it was still dark and foggy. Next was a C-130. "Number eleven".

Next was a PAX-750XL. "Number twelve" the driver called.

Next was me ..... a Twin Otter. "Number thirteen".

I disembarked and made my way over to the Otter which I could just make out in the dim light - it looked tropical?

I got it started and checked and warmed up. I got the coordinates for Comandante Ferraz (62.1S - 58.7W) and Marambio (64.1S - 56.4W) dailed into the GPS and sipped some hot tea. It seemed like several minutes that we sat there idling. Finally, through the fog, I could see other aircraft starting to taxiing about. At first I wasn't sure what to do but soon I could make out the dim figure of a man in an orange snowsuit, followed by two utility vehicles, who was making his way down the line. I watched the DC-3 pull out, followed by the others. Finally I was directed to follow the others on the taxiway. We taxied through the cold out to the runway and one after the other we were finally airborne!

Climbing above the fog bank I kept an eye out for other traffic in the growing light of pre-dawn, then I turned to the northeast and headed the less than 100 miles towards Comandante Ferraz. I stayed above the fog and low clouds but things started to deteriorate. Found myself getting lower and slower. Slower .... lower ... watching for terrain on the GPS! Finally, as I approached the bay near Comandante Ferraz I saw the rescue sight and was relieved to see that other pilots had arrived and were beginning the rescue operation.

I circled the bay a couple of times trying to survey the area, then I simply continued over the hills to Marambio Base where I landed without difficulty or concern.

Alejandro: Thank you for hosting some real world, Solar Cargo flights - it was a good time.

Joao: Thank you for taking us to someplace new - it was an education that I didn't expect.