Up, Down, Turn Around

It's been a while since my last post. Actually, it's been a while since my last successful post. A few days ago I tried to post a letter from my friend, Christy, who just finished 2 years in the Peace Corps. For some reason when I cut and paste her e-mail contents into the template it was causing wierd things to happen to the right hand navigation. I'll try again soon, when I come up with an alternative method that won't mess up the template and doesn't require any HTML on my part. I feel like the sorcerer's apprentice when I attempt to use HTML. I know just enough of the "spells" to be dangerous.

Some of you may be wondering why I'm still here. For those who aren't, I was called by Life Line Pilots to see if I would go down to Atlanta and fly food and med supplies into Mississippi. And I would have, but circumstances dictated otherwise.

The whole thing started when I received a call Saturday night from Karen, Life Line's Coordinator. At that time they thought they might need me to go down to Atlanta to fly doctors to Lousiana. She didn't have all the details yet, but said she'd call me Sunday with more info if I was interested. As Laurie will attest this disaster has really gotten under my skin for several reasons, all of which I might relate in another post. Let me just say, for now, I think everyone's energies would be best directed at seeing the rescue phase through instead of trying to score political points. When it's all over let the finger pointing ensue. Fry whoever you want. Impeach Bush for all I care. Just wait till it's over for crap's sake.

The other thing that's been weighing heavily on my mind was the fact I am one of a handful (less than 1% last I heard) of Americans that owns a plane. It's hard not to feel more than a little obligated to step forward and help out even if you're not asked. But not having ever participated in something of this magnitude before, I was a little anxious. As Laurie will tell you, I'm a pretty cautious pilot. I like to have everything planned out in advance. I like to have as many variables defined as possible. I like to be able to make a plan and stick to it. This is how most regular Life Line flights are. About all are scheduled weeks in advance and you get complete information on your destination, passengers, cargo, etc. so you can plan ahead. Rescue and relief operations are nothing like this. You have to be open to changing your plan at the drop of a hat and coming up with a new one on the spot. Even if the "spot" is at 5,000 feet halfway to the place you thought you were going and you've already burned half your fuel.

On the mission I accepted, I didn't get the call until yesterday at 4 p.m. All I was told was that I needed to be in Atlanta at 11 this morning to assist Angel Flight of Georgia in the delivery of food and supplies to Mississippi. She couldn't tell me where exactly in Mississippi I'd be going but that Angel Flight coordinators would brief me when I arrived in Atlanta. She couldn't tell me how long they would need me, either. I was told I could return home when I had to, but what if that was after only one flight? Would one tiny Archer load of supplies even make a difference? Should I leave this kind of work to more experienced pilots? Can I afford to miss work right now? All these things were swirling in my head (and stomach). The only thing I knew for sure was, that if I didn't go, it would eat me up inside. I won't lie, there was a baser part of me that saw this as an adventure. But what would've bugged me most if I hadn't gone would've been knowing I had been blessed with a unique ability to do something about this and did nothing. So, Laurie packed my duffle, I filed a flight plan, we prayed together and then I headed to the airport.

Since I didn't get the call until 4 I wasn't airborne until about 7, meaning I had to spend some time over hilly terrain . . . at night . . . . with one engine. Don't get me wrong, I love night flying, but doing so over unfamiliar, inhospitable terrain does tend to attenuate the hearing to every single piston stroke of the engine. The slightest vibration or change in tenor, real or imagined, is enough to get the adrenal gland going. I forced myself to relax a little by engaging the autopilot and reclining the seat a little. The stars were amazing, but looking down at the glittering cities I felt like I was on the moon. Without company, long night flights can can make you feel rather lonesome.

I decided to stop in Chatanooga, TN because I'd flown in there before and it was only about 3 hours from Champaign--my comfort limit for long flights. After refueling I toyed around with the idea of continuing on to Atlanta, just about 45 minutes further south. But considering how hilly the surrounding terrain was, how dark it was and how tired I suddenly felt I decided to check into a motel for the night. I figured it'd be better to leave early this morning and fly into Atlanta with the benefit of illuminated terrain and a little rest.

The folk's at TAC Air (where I parked) were kind enough to shuttle me to the hotel and then back again early this morning. The driver that picked me up this morning told me they had two jet loads of hurricane refugees arrive yesterday. It took a second to process. Hearing fellow Americans referred to as refugees takes some getting used to.

After a quick pre-flight I fired up the plane and called for clearance. I rolled to the hold short line of the active runway and commenced the engine run-up. The "run-up" is when I check the magnetos that fire the spark plugs. Each cylinder of the engine has two spark plugs--each fired by a different magneto. This is to provide redundancy, but also to improve combustion and power production. You check these before take off to make sure each is working properly by isolating them while you run the engine up.

When I checked the right magneto the engine started sputtering. I swithced back to both mags and it ran smooth. Checked the left maganeto again--smooth. Tried the right magneto again--rough. Now what? I called ground and told them I had to go back and park while I sorted it out. Alot of times this kind of problem clears itself up. A "rough" mag is often just the result of some carbon build up on the spark plugs and you can usually burn it off in flight. And since the engine was running smoothly on both maybe that's all it was.

But if it wasn't I'd have to get it checked out in Atlanta and I'd be as useless there as I would be back home. The mission was supposed to launch at 11 and it was already 9. By the time I landed in Atlanta, found a mechanic on Labor Day, and got the plane in the shop, they'd be long gone before I could get it checked out. I decided to come home, get it checked out here this week and see if I could volunteer for a future mission. From what I've seen on TV there's going to be no shortage of opporunities.

For those of you who were thinking of me and/or praying for me while all this was going on , thank you. When I give it another go, I'll let you know.