Miracles do happen

On Wednesday afternoon, at approximately 11.30 GMT (14.30 local), yours truly experienced a miracle. It was the third in 7 days, although strictly speaking, the three miracles are one. Allow me to explain:

6 Breaks

10 weeks ago, on 9th December, I broke my wrist in 6 places when I experienced what we pilots call 'severe ground effect'. Fortunately this did not take place in an aircraft, but just after parting company with my motorcycle.

After an uncomfortable night in Nairobi, Katie drove me to the hospital at Kijabe, where we had been put in touch with an orthopaedic surgeon who had been highly recommended to us.

Bionic Wrist

That afternoon, the hero Dr. Mike Mara put my wrist back together in a 3hr op using meccano. One plate and 6 pins later, I was a complete human being again, albeit with much morphine in my system and a big cast on my arm.

Needless to say, no flying for me. Initial rumours were that I might never fly again. Fortunately these were scotched when the doc indicated that he was hopeful I would make a near complete recovery and that I might be flying again in around 6 months time.

Therefore imagine our joint surprise (pardon the pun) when I went for a post-operative check last week and discovered that I have 90% movement restored and well over 50% strength. At just over 2 months post op, this astounded both of us, and we jointly (sorry!) declared that the fast healing was God's grace (i.e. a miracle).

The second miracle occurred the following Friday, when my Aviation Doctor took a look at the x-rays and my wrist and after a bit of prodding concluded that I am once again fit to fly. He then cautioned me about trying to do so on a motorcycle.

And so on Wednesday afternoon this week, at around 2.30 local time, I took to the skies again with my new bionic wrist. And guess what? The flight went like a dream. Some steep turns (no loss or gain in altitude), a stall (positively recovered with little loss of height) and four landings, which were as good if not better than my usual standard (miracle no. 3, or perhaps nos. 3-6). So having a bionic limb really does improve performance.

During my two months of 'desk-flying' I have nevertheless been busy, writing new Security and Evacuation contingency plans for MAF Kenya in anticipation of the elections, which take place here on Monday.

You may recall that back in 2007/8, the Kenyan presidential elections resulted in widespread violence, with over 1000 killed and many thousands displaced. Many are saying that this terrible event must not be repeated, and of course we hope and pray for that. However many of the underlying issues which caused the violence 5 years ago remain, and whilst we hope for the best, we plan for the worst.

If there is trouble, the MAF families will mostly stay at home, with the two weeks worth of provisions that we have stockpiled in our homes. If the situation deteriorates further, we have planned to fly ourselves south down to Tanzania. What a luxury to be able to execute an airborne evacuation on yourself.

Next week there is no flying on Monday or Tuesday due to the elections. I am rostered to fly West on Wednesday (Migori), East on Thursday (Dadaab), and North on Friday (Marsabit). Let's hope and pray that I don't have to complete the compass by flying south any time soon.

 Miracles do happen.

Shaken, not Stirred

So there I was, flying back from another secret mission (well not so secret actually) from Marsabit, with my IFF (Identification Friend or Foe, these days known as a transponder) set to 2-007, and imagining myself as James Bond.

My aircraft here is 5Y-PTL as you may recall from previous posts, and in our super secret internal code it is known as MAF-7. 7 of course being the perfect number and incidentally the number of months we have now been here.

On the outbound flight I had been given the squawk code 2-007 by Radar. Jolly decent of them. Squawk is the pilot shorthand for 'transponder' and I found out recently that it is so called because the first IFF technology used in WW2 was codenamed 'Parrot'. Hence the squawk. When I set the requested code on my transponder in the aircraft, that number appears next to my blip on the radar screen, thus helping the controllers know which blip is which. Ask the boffins down in Q division if you don't understand.

Anyway on my departure from Marsabit I had inadvertently left this code set, rather than reselecting the generic '2077' which is equivalent to the '7000' squawk used in the UK. Only one digit different, but enough to blow my cover.
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As it so happened, some friends of mine from AIMAIR were visiting Nairobi Radar that afternoon, and were having a tour of the area radar room. The controller was showing them how the blips and squawks are depicted on the screen when he suddenly broke off and said "Now look at that. That is MAF-7. He is being a naughty boy because he's still using the code we gave him this morning. He thinks he's James Bond."

Contrary to the opinion of my old neighbour in the UK (hope you're reading this Reg!) I am not actually a member of any British Government agency. But I can tell you one thing: unlike a Vodka-Martini, passengers prefer being stirred to being shaken...

MAF's newest copilot

Last Saturday I had a flight to Migori in Southwest Kenya, to pick up the Director of a Childrens' home.

Here you can see me performing the pre-flight 'stick your head up the exhaust' manouever.

As there was only one passenger, I took Jack along for the ride.

He took a few shots as we flew, including this one of the boys' school, Braeburn

The flight took us over the Maasai Mara where we spotted a herd of Giraffe

Here is Biggles turning final at Migori. The two checklist lights remind me to set Prop (fully fine) and Flaps (full).

In Migori Jack met some friends and swapped fishing stories with them (seriously he is describing the one that got away)

Returning to Nairobi we enjoyed the unusual experience of landing on Runway 14, which brings you in right over the edge of the Kibera slum. Billboards on final approach require a slightly higher approach angle. Note too the offset centreline!

Birds, Clouds and Fire part 3

"I can smell something burning!" shouted the passenger behind me over the noise of the engine. We had just taken off from Marsabit and were about 200ft off the deck. A few seconds earlier I had smelled the same thing, and was already scanning the guages and looking around inside and outside the cockpit for any sign that something wasn't right. I briefly smiled an unconvincing half-smile over my shoulder and calmly told the passenger that I could smell it too, as I tried to channel my adrenaline surge into working out what was going on rather than panicking....

The day had started well, with a very clear and pleasant flight on my own from Wilson Airport to Sololo, a small town right on the Ethiopean border, a good 2.5 hrs from Nairobi. I had been able to climb to 10,000ft and had a great view of the Eastern slopes of Mount Kenya as I passed by. As usual the three peaks were in cloud.

After picking up three passengers and their bags from Sololo, we flew south to Marsabit for fuel, as I had not been able to carry round-trip fuel due to the payload. The passengers in question had been facilitating a training course for rural pastors, in this remote border region. They were in good spirits and were happy for a short comfort stop to stretch their legs in Marsabit while I took on fuel.

All preflight checks done and all systems normal as we taxied out, turned at the end of the runway and increased power for take-off. The wind in Marsabit is often stiff (20kts+) but usually mostly a headwind, so despite being close to gross weight, we lifted off in no time and were climbing quite nicely as the unwanted aroma started to fill the cabin. Obviously an aircraft fire of any sort is an emergency of the first order. The three main likely fires one can experience in a light aircraft are an engine fire, an electrical fire or a wing fire (where the fuel is stored).

Something didn't make sense though. Sticking my head upwards and to the left allowed me to get a good sniff of the air coming through the outside air vent (as shown in the picture on the right), and sure enough, the smell was stronger. So that indicated that the fire was outside, rather than in the cabin. And it was unmistakably that of a wood fire, which was also encouraging because apart from my head there is nothing wooden in the aircraft.

After a few seconds more, in the words of Inspector Clouseau, "the mystery was solve-ed" as a reasonably large fire came into view on the ground, with a smoke trail gently rising into our flight path.

The whole escapade had lasted maybe 10 seconds, although as with many incidents like this it felt much longer. I showed the passengers the cause of the smell, and everyone relaxed. Within 5 minutes they were all asleep.

Birds, Clouds and Fire part 2

Those of you who have been following this blog carefully will know that I am currently flying a Cessna 206 aircraft for MAF in Kenya. Some of you will also know that the 206 has a single 6-cylinder piston engine.

In some countries (notably the good ole USofA) you can happily fly a single engine piston aircraft in the clouds for the purposes of commercial aviation. However in others, such as most of Europe and many countries in Africa (including here in Kenya), you cannot.

The story is a little different for single-engined turbine aircraft such as the Cessna Caravan and Pilatus PC-12 which MAF operate in Kenya. Due to the improved safety and reliability of the turbine engines compared to their piston forebears (at least in theory if not always in practice!!), they are allowed to fly IFR (Instrument Flight Rules) here, and so can dance in as well as around the clouds.

As for me and my 206, we are limited to flying VFR (Visual Flight Rules), which means I must at all times remain clear of cloud, and generally in sight of the surface. It is possible to fly VFR 'on top' where you are above the clouds, but to do that you need a gap big enough to climb through, and at your destination you need another gap big enough to descend through. It is also a slightly uncomfortable place to be, since if you did have an engine failure, you are first heading for the clouds before you have any hope of seeing a suitable emergency landing site.

And so to last weeks' Dadaab shuttle. The weather over the weekend was unseasonably grey with low clouds and rain. Normally by this time in August the rains are gone and Nairobi is warm and dry, maybe with some haze. As I rode my motorbike down Mbagathi Way at 6.30 on Monday morning I could tell the flight wouldn't be leaving anytime soon. The sky was dark, with showers to the west and low cloud hanging around.

The trickiest part of the flight would be getting out of Nairobi and to the lower ground. 30 miles east and not only does the ground drop away but the clouds that form due to the rising terrain tend to dissipate so that usually you can find a gap or fly comfortably underneath.

But not today. I did my preflight checks and confirmed that my 3 passengers were checked-in. A quick look at the Nairobi weather data and more importantly a good look out of the window confirmed that we would have to wait for the weather to improve.

An hour later one of my MAF colleagues took off in a Caravan and headed out east before turning north around Mount Kenya. I called him on the HF radio and asked for a weather report. He reported back that it looked bleak and in the few gaps that he flew through, the weather seemed all the way to the ground.

Back in Nairobi though things were looking brighter. The cloudbase had lifted somewhat and to the south there was sunshine poking through. After waiting for the latest forecast and actual weather reports, and talking with another pilot, we judged that it may have improved enough to depart.

I taxied over to customs and the passengers and their bags were soon loaded. We took off and climbed to 700ft. The visibility was excellent below the cloud. Everything was crystal clear, if a little dark. I turned east and headed for the 'Northeast Access Lane' a corridor of airspace inside the Nairobi control zone that threads like a needle between the Jomo Kenyatta International airport to the south and Eastleigh Airforce base to the North.

The corridor is around 8 miles long, but very thin. The distance between the two airports is around 3 miles, so I always stick to the dead centre of the corridor. So far so good. On track, on height, on speed and clear of clouds.

To the southeast I could see blue sky and brightness. To the northeast, Mount Kenya somewhere lurking in the dark grey wall of cloud and mist. And ahead, well it was difficult to tell. The cloudbase was still above me (just) but the forward visibility was deteriorating. Light showers appeared to be approaching my flightpath from the south. But I could still see the ground and was clear of cloud. So we continue on.

During my country training with MAF I had flown this corridor several times with Jane, and in some cases in worse weather than this, so I was comfortable.

And then things started to change. Some drops on the windscreen alerted me to the fact that we were entering a rainshower. Sure enough the forward visibility decreased further, to maybe 4 miles. at the same time the cloudbase lowered, and so I descended slightly to remain below it. Up ahead I thought I could see some brighter areas, but closer in there were some areas of significant cloud and precipitation.

Looking back over my shoulder I could see that my path back to Nairobi Wilson was still clear. It's one thing cautiously approaching bad weather, but another to become surrounded by it and have nowhere to go. I couldn't deviate left or right from track due to the corridor, so I checked again that my rear was clear (!) and continued. The cloudbase was continuing to push me lower, and on checking my Altimeter I saw that I was now around 500ft from the ground. Less than comfortable, but I've flown lower safely during MAF training. Ahead in the distance I could see the lower ground and brighter weather, but between me and that lower ground the clouds stubbornly persisted.

And then a heavier shower appeared in the windscreen. A wall of cloud also appeared ahead, lower than my current altitude. A glance over my shoulder revealed a deteriorating visibility behind. It was time to go home. I executed a tight 180 degree turn, called Nairobi Radar and told them I was returning to Wilson Airport via the corridor.

Ten minutes later we were all safely on the ground again. I apologised to the passengers that we couldn't make it today. They were grateful and understood that safety is our main priority. Sadly not all air operators in Africa share that priority.

Bet you can't wait for part 3...

Birds, Clouds and Fire part 1

No really, I'm fine. But in the last two weeks I've had some new experiences which have added to my knowledge and experience of flying.

The first was during the Dadaab run. I had departed from Nairobi soon after 8 local time with some passengers and arrived at Dadaab at around 10. After using the facilities at the Airport (right), I was all set to return to Nairobi with a three other passengers.

African Flycatcher

Lined up on the runway with the engine at 1700RPM I checked the magnetos one at a time and then opened up the throttle and released the brakes. We accelerated well and I was just at Vr (rotate speed) when I spotted a small flock of birds in the middle of the runway ahead. They were flycatchers as far as I could tell. At the approaching bigger metal bird they scattered, but unfortunately one decided to challenge my propellor to a duel. Maybe he thought I was a big fly.

So as I rotated and the aircraft wheels left the ground, something yellowy-red and mushy appeared on the right-hand side of the windscreen, accompanied by a soft "phlat", the sort of noise that Rowan Atkinson might make when in character as Johnnie English or Mr. Bean.

I quickly glanced at the temperature and pressure guages, and all seemed well, so I continued the take-off and climbed up to circuit height to consider what to do. Since the bird was small, the deposit on the windscreen did not affect my forward vision, and there were no adverse engine indications, I decided to continue climbing and head back to Nairobi.

Windscreen Damage from a Vulture

As is always the case, these issues require judgement on the part of the pilot. If the bird had been bigger or there had been multiple strikes, I would have continued in the circuit and landed. Had the windscreen or propellor sustained physical damage, such as shown on the aircraft on the right, I would have aborted the take-off (even with the wheels already off the ground) and landed back on the runway. It is long enough to do that.

A week later one of my colleages was flying to Dadaab and he had a birdstrike. Another flycatcher. His Cessna Caravan has a big engine air-intake at the front, and the concern is that a bird could be ingested in the engine and cause a failure (as happened with the airliner that successfully ditched in the Hudson river a couple of years ago). In this case he aborted the take-off, shut the aircraft down and had a good look in the air-intake.

So I've had my first birdstrike. Happily as with the majority of birdstrikes, it was not a serious incident (except of course for the bird). Next time I'll tell you what happened when I got up close and personal with some low cloud...

Just another manic Monday

Dropping off the Self-Loading Freight at Dadaab

Alarm clock at 6am. 6.10 coffee, thanks to the timer I've rigged up to the coffee machine. 6.25 my colleague Ben knocked quietly on our door and we drove up to the MAF hangar at Wilson Airport, arriving at around 6.45.

My flight today was to Dadaab and back, and our three passengers (otherwise known as Self-Loading Freight) had already checked-in.

I did my preflight check on the aircraft and noted the weather and NOTAMS. Happily today the cloud was high overcast and although hazy, good enough visibility for a VFR departure without delay. So I taxied down to customs at around 8am and the aforementioned SLF loaded themselves. Two hours later we were in Dadaab where they unloaded themselves and were met by the ubiquitous white Toyota Landcruisers with HF whip antennae (pictured above). All three passengers work for organisations continuing to address the huge humanitarian crisis still present in the refugee camps at Dadaab.

We then picked up one returning passenger and headed back to Nairobi and were back in the hangar by just after 1pm. After signing off the flight paperwork ("the flight ain't over till the paperwork's done"), I grabbing a chapati & samosa for lunch and then took care of some further admin in the hangar. At 3.30, the end of our duty periods, Ben and I drove home.

On the way we noticed an interesting sign on the back of one of the matatus (right). You may know that a matatu is a pseudo-public transport minibus. They are privately owned but operate on various routes throughout the city. Given the way they drive, it is the other road-users who really need our prayers.


And then finally, Katie and the boys decided that for supper we should all go out for a bit of Chinese food as we didn't have much in the house. The 'For You' Chinese restaurant is just around the corner and they have good, inexpensive Chinese food and more importantly a bouncy castle, trampoline, table football and swings.

Top tip No.1: let the kids play before the food arrives.

Top tip No.2: maybe avoid menu item number 16 (left).