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Leg 51 - Caribbean Conclusion - Aruba to Panama City


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Prologue

Has it really been less than twenty-four hours since all this began?

It was a rare quiet day yesterday in the Boxwings office at Ocala. The ramp was empty. All three of the birds that had spent the night there

had flown the coop in the last hour before dawn. Amongst those was our Beech 1900 with Joe in the left seat - his first paying trip as Pilot in Command.

The C-123 Provider was laid up down in Tampa, getting some much needed attention from a service company that specializes in older, larger,

working-class aircraft. Brakes and tires had been showing some signs of wear and tear and Joe and I had flown her there empty the day before.

It would take them two more days to finish.

No arrivals were scheduled until mid-afternoon. Our line chief, Charlie, had the ramp crew busy with a much needed "field day", tidying up some

cluttered areas in the big warehouse before it got to the point of becoming a hazard. Others were staging the pallets for the afternoon load-outs.

Outside a man was hosing down the inevitable dirt that collected in the sloped truck bays where the tractor-trailers picked up and delivered. Another

guy was busy on the ramp, working it over with a tractor-mounted rotary broom in the never-ending quest to keep foreign objects out of engines.

For a non-tower airport with no scheduled airline operations, Ocala is a relatively busy place. Outside that is - in here, unusually, all was quiet as

a church today. The office COM radio crackled occasionally in the background, tuned to the field CTAF. Biz jets, light GA aircraft and even airport

maintenance vehicles could be heard every few minutes, announcing position and intentions. I sat at my desk trying to be busy with invoices

and maintenance records, but it wasn't working - nor was I, truth be told. Charlie would pop in for a few minutes every half-hour or so to freshen

his coffee cup and trade a few words with me, but he was soon off again to monitor his minions.

The boss was away today, taking advantage of a day with so little activity to make a shopping trip to Orlando with one of her friends. I had dutifully

volunteered to remain here and hold down the fort - painful as that was. Let's see, given the choice of driving to Orlando and following my wife and

her friend through innumerable shoe shops and clothing stores, with the inevitable salad lunch, or, on the other hand, just hanging around at the

airport - well, that had been a no-brainer. I felt like I'd dodged a bullet. Sometimes things just work out. Life is good.

Still, it WAS getting a little boring. I began to think about a scheme for finding a plausible way to fly today, but the empty ramp outside seemed

an insurmountable obstacle. I heard the phone in the outer office and heard the clerk pick it up on the first ring.

"Boxwings Air Freight, Sharon speaking."

She was new, with good references, but I sensed she wouldn't be with us long. There was something of the vagabond in that one. She was more

riveted by the view of aircraft out the window and the chatter on the COM radio than I was - and that's saying something. Her eyes seemed to change

focus a little and she'd fidget in her chair whenever one of our pilots mentioned a long flight to some far-off place. She was doing the job, but somehow

I knew she'd be gone one day soon.

My extension rang. I heard Sharon call through the door, "A Mr. Thompson from Aero-Union for you." I picked it up and greeted an old friend

from earlier flying days.

"John, you old freight dog," he began, "...do you feel like doing some honest work for a change or do you really like losing money flying beans to

Boston, corn to Iowa and refrigerators to Alaska?"

"Nice to hear from you, Slick. What's on your mind? Since you're calling me, you must need some help."

"Well, I do, actually.", he said. "We just got a contract down in Panama and I need a ferry pilot to help get one of our aircraft down there, with a

detour along the way. Are you interested?"

"Tell me more." I said, attempting to sound nonchalant. In reality I was already half out of my chair in anticipation, but it wouldn't do to let him know

that. "Slick" Thompson was Operations Manager and Chief Pilot for Aero-Union and they operated some very interesting aircraft in some very

interesting activities - fire tankers, for the most part. "You know I don't have the training, the license or the inclination to do what your guys do with

those things."

"No, no! Nothing like that. This is just a ferry job. I've got a K3 that's short a pilot. He'll join up in Panama City later. I need to get the aircraft

there though - real soon - but with a stop at Aruba. One of our ground ops supervisors is vacationing there. We need to pick him up and take him

on in to Panama. It's out of the way, but I need him in Panama and that's the fastest way for me to get him there."

"OK, so what the hell do the Panamanians want with a fire tanker in the middle of a rain forest? This isn't drug related is it?" I was still trying to

sound reluctant, but I was already hooked. Flying the big, old, converted Lockheed turboprop sounded like a fun way to spend a day or a night.

Hell, flying anything is a fun way to spend a day or a night.

"Well, one of our sidelines is environmental support.", he answered. "It seems they've got a grounded super-tanker on their hands off the coast

and it looks like she may start to break up before they can get all of the cargo out of her. We're licensed to drop an oil-dispersing chemical that

will dissipate the oil slick if the containment booms can't keep it in. Given the sea conditions they're expecting, that's likely. We're trying to get

all the assets in place in Panama City by the end of the day tomorrow.

We're sending this aircraft, and one other; the second one will be going direct with some of the ground equipment and all the rest of our people.

You'll be loaded with ground equipment and as much of the concentrated dispersing agent as we can haul. That stuff will be off-loaded at Tocumen

airport in Panama City, which will be our local operating base. We'll mix the drop-loads from the concentrate there as we need it and fly more in

direct from California if that's not enough.

So, what's your story? Can you help me out? We'll pay standard contract rates for your services, add a thousand for the short notice, cover your

expenses and book you a business-class ticket out of Panama City back to Florida. You can't beat that, can you? What do you think?"

"OK - I'm your man.", I said, dropping any pretense of reluctance. "What's the itinerary look like?"

"We'll come to Ocala for you tonight. It's a good departure point for the leg to Aruba anyway. I'll be flying left seat on the way to Ocala, but I can't go

the rest of the way. I'll have to charter right back here.

You and the other pilot can take her to Aruba, pick up the ground ops guy and continue on to Tocumen. The Orion is here in San Diego. We're

loading her now and expect to be on the ground in Ocala at 10:00 tonight, your time. You can make Aruba before dawn, refuel and have an easy

daylight hop to Panama. It's #20, by the way, the same one you took a ride in when we were operating out of your bailiwick in May."

I flashed back to a few months ago. Florida had been beset with wildfires this past spring. The State had contracted with Aero Union for three,

then a fourth K3 fire tanker to assist in the fire fighting effort. All had flown out of Ocala for several weeks.

Slick and I had renewed our long-standing friendship during that time and I'd taken the opportunity to ride along on a fire-bombing run up near

Lake City. Just once! I don't ever want to do that again! Whatever they pay those guys is not enough, though I had the sense that most of them

would have done it for nothing.

I came back to the present, still holding the phone to my ear...

"OK, Slick, I'll get started on the flight planning for Aruba. Have your office fax the registration number and all the technical data I need for the planning.

Do you want a lay-over for a few hours tonight to give the other pilot some rest?"

"No, he can snooze enroute to Aruba. Once you're at altitude, even you can monitor the autopilot without someone to hold your hand. Time's

short on this one, John. Let's plan to keep moving toward Panama City as quickly as we can, as long as we can do it safely."

"Alright, buddy, I'll have us filed for an 11:00 PM local-time departure and I'll be ready to go. I'll make sure the FBO has someone here to pump

Jet-A at that hour. In the quantity you'll be buying it, they'll be more than willing. I'll call the US Customs office too; they're used to off-hours

departures from our operation. You can fax the contract for my services here too. I'll sign it and Sharon can fax it back to your office."

And that, boys and girls, is how I came to be here in Aruba this fine early morning, with an Aero-Union K3 fire tanker casting long shadows on the

Reina Beatrix cargo ramp, bound for Panama City in a very few minutes. That's not so hard to believe, is it?

It was here, not long after landing, that a Welsh gentleman approached me on the ramp. He must be an early riser. He asked if I'd be willing to

carry a small item to Panama City. I was suspicious, of course. You've all heard the standard airport security questions - "Has anyone asked

you to carry anything..." Also, this is a part of the world where all sorts of things happen that are... let's just say, under the radar. Even piracy

is said to still exist here. I don't know about that, though. It sounds like a tall story, but no taller than a fire tanker in the tropics, I suppose.

Anyway, the Welshman looked OK and seemed sincere. The object in question, a tubular blue thing of some sort, seemed innocent enough, even

though it did have the look of a pipe bomb. It's too light to be that though. He referred to it as "...the baton..." as if that would mean something

to me, and claimed that it had already been over half way around the world.

What the hell, I thought, why not? "Sure, I'll take it!"

Photos of N920AU in Ocala, Florida, May 2007

Leg51-01.jpg

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Route map

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You knew there'd be a fence view, didn't you?

Leg51-05B.jpg

On the ramp at TNCA, casting long morning shadows

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Startup

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Pushback on a quiet early morning ramp

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Taxiing to runway 11

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Last minute check lists

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Runway 11 - lining up

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Aruba behind, 657 miles to Panama City

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Plan view of the classic Lockheed L-188 Electra / P3 and K3 Orion

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Colombia coast ahead

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Feet dry in Colombia

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Early part of the route - Venezuela is close, but this is Colombia

Leg51-16.jpg

Ditching and Bailout placard and a view of a very inhospitable coast

Leg51-17.jpg

Haze and coastal mountains

Leg51-18.jpg

Pico Cristobal Colon, 19,029 feet – we're at 28,000 ft. with 374 knots indicated and 485 over the ground. Not too shabby for an old lady like this. She doesn't get to stretch her legs like this much in her normal job.

Leg51-19.jpg

A view back to the caldera and lake

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The city of Barranquilla

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Cartagena

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There's an airport at Cartagena just below our left wingtip

Leg51-23.jpg

We've cancelled IFR and descended to 1,500 feet. With two notches of flaps out and at a leisurely 150 knots, we'll make a photo pass along the route of the canal.

Approaching the Atlantic side of the canal - ships anchored, awaiting passage

Leg51-24.jpg

Gatun locks, queue of ships in the distance

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Gatun locks

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Ships lined up for locks

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Pedro Miguel locks ahead

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Centennial Bridge

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Pedro Miguel and Milaflores locks

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Pedro Miguel locks

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Pedro Miguel and Milaflores locks

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Milaflores locks

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Panama City and the Pacific terminus of the canal - Bridge of the Americas on the right

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Gear starting out

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Lining up for MPTO

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Passing the terminal on the way to the cargo ramp

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Passing GA ramp - we'll be just beyond

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Parked and shutting down

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A Mutley-looking crew indeed

Leg51-44.jpg

Well, we've arrived, feeling every bit as tired as we look in that last photo. The fella' in the jump seat is the ground ops supervisor, who will be looking to the setting up of the facilities for mixing and loading the dispersant, as soon as the other AC arrives with his people and the rest of his equipment. He's not very happy about having his vacation interrupted, but compared to his wife who was left on the ramp at Aruba, he's a veritable happy camper. To say she was unhappy does not begin to do justice to the magnitude of her ramp rage. Of course nothing could deter her from holding me personally responsible for press-ganging her husband away in mid-holiday. No amount of rational explanation on my part seemed to have any effect. I suspect though, that she'll get around to comforting herself in the shops of Aruba today. Her poor husband may end up having been money ahead if he had declined this job.

So, these other gents are about to roll up their sleeves and get to work fending off an environmental disaster here in Panama. As for me, I'll be boarding a north-bound 767 in about 3 hours, direct to Tampa. With a little luck the old Provider will be ready, sporting some new shoes. I'll be calling the office as soon as I can find a phone to make the arrangements. Someone who can co-pilot will have to drive the 110 miles down to Tampa and we'll ferry her back to Ocala, including the automobile he drives down in. You've just got to love an airplane with a ramp.

There's one loose end remaining to be tied up. I still have this blue baton thing, and no one has appeared yet to claim it. I'm sure someone will turn up soon, however. That fellow at Aruba was adamant that someone from a mysterious organization he kept calling "...the hangar..." would be here to relieve me of it.

Ah, here comes someone now!

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:good

Who was that someone? I guess we will just have to wait :rockon:

I really enjoyed that John, as ever full of interesting fact and fiction. What have I warned you about accepting gifts from strange Welshmen? Did he still reek of shipdip? apparently it's the local tipple in Aruba.

That's a great find, the Orion, number 20 too the same that was at Ocala on fire fighting duties. I love all these shots but that nose on shot just after you had taken off was brilliant, the props look great.

The slow trawl up the canal was good too, I guess the locks were found on AVSIM?

Thanks for wrapping the Caribbean Calypso up with such great style John, a classic Allard post!

Now we have time for a little reflection on one of our best sections yet before the South American Samba kicks off.

Cheers

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Thanks, Mut.

Yes, it's got most of the Allard trademarks - excessive text, lousy graphics, a cyclone fence, mild profanity, a contrived scenario, and a line of

BS a mile long.

The canal scenery, and one of the airports, did come from AVSIM. The other airport was from another site whose identity was lost in the shuffle.

The geography of the canal is interesting. Because of a twist in the isthmus, when you're flying toward the Pacific, you're on a heading of about

120. I found that pretty weird, flying east to get from the Atlantic to the Pacific.

John

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Hi John - well, what can I say? First, I really liked the preface to your screen shots - setting the scene and building up the tension. Then, as Joe said, having real photo's of the identical plane was a brilliant tour de force and made the whole leg come alive! I'm glad someone knows where Sharon is - and I do hope she settles down now........ Fancy bumping into a Welshman in Aruba - whatever next?! I don't think I'd have accepted a package from him - half way round the world, indeed.

The Leg itself was excellent - I liked the maps and commentary and I thought the ships queuing for the Canal added another layer of realism - did you use a placement tool or were they part of the AVSIM add-on scenery. (I'm seriously thinking of getting FS-9 because of all the compatible stuff around - good scenery in FSX is still hard to come by.....) I remember Panama from a previous Guess the Airport - I think I got there in the Short Empress - it's not bad in FSX, but the Canal scenery objects are quite poor.

Anyway, nuff said - thanks again for a well rounded leg (cricket term!) - we can look forward to learning how to Samba around the rest of South America!

Cheers - Dai/David :rockon:

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David,

Thanks. I'm glad you liked it. I try to make up for the graphics quality with a story line.

The scenery was used "as found". All the ships were already in place; I enjoyed them too. The author's readme notes indicated he was disappointed

by the scarcity of ships in the default scenery and set out to correct that as well as the scale of the locks. Those were apparently far too large in FS9.

I used a different editing program this time and attempted to make one of the maps larger, which only spoiled it. I haven't the knack or the right tools

yet. It looked better than the other until uploaded and posted, then turned out to be worse.

Alas, when I'd returned to the office after this adventure, my premonitions proved to have been on target. Sharon had flown again, giving only short

notice and no forwarding address. Coincidentally, there was a Boxwings flight departing very early the next morning for a South American destination,

captained by a pilot she'd become friendly with. Office gossip has it that there may have been an extra person aboard when it departed, but that's

surely just conjecture. The pilot returned on schedule with a denial...and a smile.

John

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John,

A really great post and a brilliant end to the Caribbean section! It's nice to see something different and you showed a lot of creativity in this - loved the story before the shots! Nice to see some RW pics of the aircraft you used, taken at Ocala I presume? Like the pictures of the locks too.

Thanks for the effort you put into this one, great job!

Dave :-)

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Dave,

Thanks. Yes, I dug through the shots I took in Ocala in the spring. There were four of the K3s here, tail numbers 00, 20, 21 and 22. Those four

shots were the only ones I had of 20, though I have a few others where a number is not visible. Those may or may not be of 20.

I'm sure you can imagine how excited I was to find the AC when trawling for something to fly on this leg. I knew immediately that I'd use it, but

the difficulty was coming up with a non-boring explanation for what that kind of AC was doing in Aruba.

It was a chore putting the leg together, particularly running up and down the hall with a jump drive in hand whenever I needed the web. I had

a lot of fun with it too, though. I'll sure be glad when the new PC gets here.

John

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