Flying the Bahamas in a Grumman HU-16E

By Joe Thompson

 

Part Two – The Caribs, Christopher Columbus and a Watery Collision

 

 

Colin Parker heard them call inbound to the Nassau Tower on the portable transceiver he kept on his desk. He yelled out his door to Hanna and alerted her.

“Hanna let Willy know their inbound and have him break out those snack trays.”

It was a little before 14:00 and he knew that the crews work day was now going to stretch well into late evening with additional runs that had been booked since their departure earlier that morning. He also knew from past experience they had probably only eaten junk food on their brief turnarounds, so he took the liberty to order some snack trays from Scooter’s favorite local restaurant, ‘The Compass Point’ on Love Beach, only a few minutes from the airport. Captain Putnam was good friends with the head chef there and when Colin called and asked if they could put together some trays for Scooter and his crew, they were only too pleased to comply.

 

Soon Willy, one of the mechanics from the back, appeared in the doorway carrying, in one hand, a large paper bag containing the food and a small ice cooler in the other hand. The Styrofoam trays contained an assortment of local delicacies: conch fritters, shrimp cooked in a coconut sauce, large pieces of pan roasted grouper; tempura coated lobster bits, stone crab cakes, and fried plantains. Smaller sealed cups contained several curries, along with mango and Creole sauces and pickled cucumbers. Soft drinks filled the cooler. Colin knew Rueben loved this type food also, but he wasn’t sure about Cassie’s tastes, so he made sure that a couple big, juicy burgers and french-fries were included too.

 

In a matter of minutes the big Albatross taxied up to the front of the Mercator hanger, wheeled around to face east and shutdown her engines. The crew disembarked and walked into the office. Colin greeted them with a foreboding pronouncement.

”Hope you guys didn’t have any dinner plans tonight?”

“What the hell does that mean?” Scooter said half jokingly.

“Well we’ve had several add-on’s (additional demands for flights added to the days flight schedule) since you left this morning. It still looks the same down to Exuma (Great Exuma Island) but instead of returning, we have stops on San Salvador, Mayaguana and Provo before you come home.” (‘Provo’ is the local name for Providenciales Island, an island of the Turks & Caicos Islands, which are a British Overseas Territory, located southeast of the Bahamas and north of Hispaniola).

“Provo, all the way down there? Are you kidding?” barked Rueben.

“Afraid not. The airport director down there called me a little while ago and said that their standby VOR transmitter crapped out this morning. They can’t fix it and they have to get it to a repair facility in Chicago tomorrow. You guys are going to fly it back up here, then it’s going out on the first UPS flight tomorrow morning. Call us inbound when you start your descent back to Nassau tonight. Oh, Yeh, we weren’t sure if you had eaten anything substantial today, so your friends over at ‘The Compass’ prepared some snack boxes for you. There over there in the bag,”

Colin pointed to the food by the door.  ”That cooler is for you guys too.”

“Thanks gang”, Scooter said. “I think we have everything we need. Cassie, grab that paperwork off Hanna’s desk please. Come on Rueben let’s roll.”

Rueben was standing at Hanna’s desk calling his wife to alert her that he would be late tonight. Cassie and Scooter were single and this really didn’t interfere with anything except perhaps for Putnam’s previous plans to relax with a couple glasses of good merlot, some music cassettes, and a good book. Cassie, on the other hand, was actually thrilled at the schedule change. It meant more flying for her in the big Albatross and the more the better.

 

Now her afternoon schedule looked like this:

 

N16MC
LEG	DEPT	ETD	DEST	ETA	LOAD	WT	CT*	RMKS
7	NAS	1430	ATC	1510	C	3,000	2
8	ATC	1530	GGT	1600	C	1,200	2
9	GGT	1625	ZSA	1700	C	2,800	2
10	ZSA	1730	MYG	1825	C	3,500	2
11	MYG	1845	PLS	1915	4P+C	2,000	2	IFR
12	PLS	1945	NAS	2200	C	5,000	2	IFR

 

The IFR (Instrument Flight Rule) notes for the last two lines indicated that the crew would have to file IFR flight plans for those two legs. Most flying in the Bahamas is done utilizing Visual Flight Rules (VFR) but VFR is prohibited in the Bahamas at night, therefore the line notations.

 

They taxied away from their Nassau hanger at 14:30 and blocked in at Arthur’s Town (ATC/MYCA) on Cat Island forty-six minutes later. The flight had taken them southeast from New Providence Island, over Ship Channel Cay at the northern end of the Exuma Chain, out across the north portion of Exuma Sound and over the southern tip of Eleuthera to Cat Island. After a brief turnaround they were off again, this time now headed in a south-southwesterly direction, back across Exuma Sound to Great Exuma Island. The flight was twenty-seven minutes long and as they shutdown on the Exuma ramp (GGT/MYEF) Scooter noted that they had 514 gallons of fuel remaining. At 16:25 they left Exuma and headed to the east enroute San Salvador Island, 80 nm away. This segment would take about thirty minutes. They crossed Exuma Sound for the third time in less than two hours. Halfway to their destination a small, lonely looking island popped into view ahead of the aircraft. A larger island could be seen in the distance at their 2 o’clock position.

“That’s Conception Island dead ahead and Rum Cay is over there,” barked Scooter in Cassie’s headset.

“Anyone live down there?” she asked because of the sizes of the islands.

“Some folks on Rum but Conception is uninhabited. It’s a Bahamian National Park & Wildlife Sanctuary. Green Turtles breed there. Nice place to visit with a boat.”

 

Not many minutes later they were on final to land at Cockburn Town (ZSJ/MYSM), San Salvador Island. Then they were parked and the aircraft was strangely silent. Rueben had already gotten the cargo off and was in the shack that served as a terminal, making sure he got the correct cargo for the next stop. Scooter and Cassie sat in the hushed cockpit, the center pedestal canted upward at a forty-five degree angle. Scooter had flipped up his right armrest and was now dangling his legs off the right side of his seat, so he faced Cassie.

“This is where it all began back in 1492. This is where old Chris’ Columbus came ashore and in no time at all decimated the entire native population of the Bahamas. Funny how people lose sight of those minor details when they put guys like that on a historical pedestal.”

Scooter rested his left arm on the glareshield in front of him.

“Initially the Arawaks or Taino’s, depending on what so-called expert you read, populated the Caribbean Basin from Venezuela all the way through the Bahamas. They were a very gentle and peace loving group which made them easy pickin’s for the Spaniards when they arrived. The Caribs, on the other hand were a savage group of cannibals who basically ate their way up the Windward Islands and were making their move on Puerto Rico when Columbus  stumbled onto the new world at San Salvador.”

“I take it history is a pastime of yours?” Cass asked matter-of-factly.

“Yeh. I always enjoy learning the history of where I happened to live and the history of the Bahamas and the Caribbean is quite a read!” Scooter replied.

“The Indians living in the Bahamas, Arawaka or what-have you were known by the name Lucayans”

“So that’s where the town Lucaya on Grand Bahama Island gets it name,” she said, more as a statement than a question,

“When Columbus arrived, the Indians living on the Caribbean Islands had been here for roughly 5,000 years. Most had come from the delta area around the Orinoco River in South America.” Scooter chuckled to himself, as if he had just thought of something funny or at least ironic.

“Did you ever see that movie with Peter O’Toole called ‘Murphy’s War.’ He flies a Grumman Duck around the Orinoco delta looking for a German U-Boat during World War Two. Guess I thought about it because we’re talking about the river and here we sit in a Grumman amphib”

Not waiting for Cassie to respond he continued his trek through history.

 “When Columbus got here (San Salvador) there were an estimated 300,000 Indians in the Bahamas. In 1550, less than sixty years later, the ‘civilized Europeans’ had reduced that number down to 500.” Scooter almost spit out the words ‘civilized Europeans.’

“Hell, they’re still arguing over where Columbus landed. Most of the heavy thinkers vote for here (San Salvador) but there are some who still contend it was Cat Island or Grand Turk, which isn’t even part of the Bahamas. This island wasn’t called San Salvador, which means ‘Holy Savior’, until the late 1920’s. Before that it was Watling’s Island, named after a pirate. Kinda funny don’t you think?”

 

Before Cassie could respond Rueben stuck his head through the cockpit door and informed them they were ready to go. Scooter swung his legs around and planted his feet on the rudder pedals as he snapped the armrest down and slipped on his headset.

Ten minutes later the island of San Salvador or Watling’s or whatever you called it was becoming smaller and smaller behind ‘One Six Mike Charlie’ as she headed southeastward to Mayaguana (MYG/MYMM). This leg was 130 nm long. It looked like they would arrive on Mayaguana around 18:30 local. The sun’s westward slide towards the horizon seemed to accelerate. Deep shadows invaded the cockpit now. The once deep blue water below them now looked rusty brown and more foreboding.

 

Just before flying over Samana Cay, Rueben asked if anyone was hungry.

They all said yes, so Rueben opened each snack box like it was a Christmas present and told his crewmates what the choices were. He then served them on the paper plates that had been included in the food sack. A couple of small cups of dipping sauce were placed on the center pedestal, within easy reach of everyone. They had to be repositioned occasionally due to the engine vibrations.

“So Captain, what‘s the story behind ‘The Compass?‘” Cassie asked.

Scooter told her how he had become close friends with several of the staff there and that they occasionally sailed together on the weekends. He also told her he ate there at least three times a week so that explained their enthusiasm for preparing the food for Scooter and his crew when they were asked.

“Have you eaten there yet” he asked, wiping some mango sauce off his chin.

“Not yet, but I will now that I know about the place.”

Rueben dove into the conversation at this point with, “One of the best damn restaurants in all of Nassau or anyplace else in the Bahamas for that matter. Make sure you go the first time with the boss here. You’ll get first class treatment and then they’ll remember you later. That’s what my wife and I did and we really love the place.”

 

 

By the time they were ready to letdown near Mayaguana, a good portion of the roasted grouper, half the conch fritters and crab cakes and all of the spiny lobster bits had been consumed. But contrary to Colin’s trepidations about Cassie’s taste’ for local fare, the hamburgers remained in the bottom of the sack, untouched.

 

The Mayaguana stop was brief. Cargo off, new boxes loaded, paperwork reviewed and signed, and a IFR flight plan filed. Since VFR (Visual Flight Rule) controlled flight is prohibited in the Bahamas at night, the crew would fly the last two legs under IFR (Instrument Flight Rules). At 18:45 they departed for the 55 nm transit to Provo – Providenciales - in the Caicos Islands (PLS/MBPV). A half hour later they were sitting in the chocks at Provo and night had fallen. It was moonless and the weather forecast indicated that it was looking a little ragged back up the island chain for their return to Nassau.

 

After loading the aircraft and filing their flight plan, the two pilots boarded the aircraft. Rueben remained on the tarmac manning his normal fire guard station for engine start. It was inky black out and Rueben held a flashlight in his hand to acknowledge signals from the cockpit.

As Cassie put one foot up on the seat platform and prepared to hoist herself into the seat Scooter ask, “You wanta’ fly the return leg back?”

Cassie was pleasantly shocked because since she was the new kid on the block and the customary swapping of Pilot Flying (PF) and Pilot Not Flying (PNF) duties on each leg was not firmly established yet. Scooter had flown most of the legs this day to give her the opportunity to see the area first before she had to fly approaches to the myriad of island airfields they serviced. She had fully expected Scooter to fly this last leg back home too.

“You betcha!” she exclaimed, trying to control the glee in her voice, the smile on her face was masked by the nights shadows.

“OK, then it’s your aircraft.” Scooter stuck his head out his open vent window and informed Rueben that Cassie was the PF for this segment so he would know to follow her hand signals during engine start.

 

 

Mercator’s Flight Department had sent Cassie a large box containing manuals and operational material after she had been hired. The UPS package she got in Anchorage had contained, among other things, a Grumman Albatross Operators Manual, along with a copy of the Coast Guard’s HU-16E Standardization Manual (CG-373) known by many simply as the ‘STAN MAN.’ The Grumman aircraft manual told you all you wanted to know about the aircraft however it did not spell out the specific procedures a crew would follow during the various flight regimens. Airlines flying identical aircraft fly them, procedurally, in a slightly different manner. Different checklists are used with slight variances in where the emphasis is placed during the various flight phases. Since Scooter was one of the first pilots Mercator had hired to fly their new acquisition, he convinced them that the Coast Guard Manual for the HU-16 was the one to adopt and use. They did and it was now the major guide for flying the ‘Goat’. The manual even listed certain words that were to be used in the cockpit to alleviate ambiguity or confusion with other similar sounding words. This is especially critical in a high noise environment like the flightdeck of an HU-16. ‘Wheels Up’ would be used instead of ‘Gear Up’, ‘Manifold’ was used instead of ‘MAP’, and ‘R-P-M’ instead of ‘Prop’ during power changes. The engines were referred to as ‘Left’ or ‘Right’ not ‘One’ or ‘Two’ and ‘Maximum Power’ was used instead of ‘Takeoff Power.’ It all made sense, but it took time to digest.

 

The box also contained several packets of charts, both aeronautical and nautical, along with a notebook, embossed with the company name and logo, and bearing large lettering that proclaimed ‘Caribbean Division.’ It also had a label on the cover with her name, pilot number, and her hub assignment. (The STAN MAN had an identical label and it made Cassie feel part of the team before she even arrived for her first day of work.) The notebook was divided into sections for each island that Mercator serviced out of Nassau. The sections contained airport diagrams, approach plates and other field data. Cassie found herself pouring over this treasure trove of information night and day until she got to Nassau. Her studying continued even after she had reported for work.

 

After leaving Anchorage, she had to make a stop in Panama City, Florida for a 5 day ‘Open Water Survival Course.’ This proved to be more than a little stressful for the girl from Mankato, Minnesota who did not consider herself a very good swimmer. But the course was a Mercator requirement for all crews where more than 75% of their hub trips were over water. This meant that crews from the Bahamas, Puerto Rico, Hawaii and several South Pacific bases attended this course. She struggled with the swimming, as did several of the other attendees, but they all made it through. She was proud of the fact that it had taught her to be much more confident in an open water situation.

 

After reporting for work in Nassau, she attended two more weeks of classes covering hub and aircraft familiarization. She supplemented what she got formally in the classroom with her own late night forays in the aircraft. Without a simulator to practice in, and no procedural training device available (an instrument panel mockup of a particular aircraft where all the switches and dials can be manipulated but the gauges don’t operate), she improvised.  Most nights the ‘Goat’ would be parked on the Nassau ramp in front of the hanger. She would alert the night shift mechanics in the hanger what she was doing, then go out to the aircraft and sit in the cockpit and use it as a procedural trainer. With her manuals spread out on the glareshield and seat beside her she would call out the various checklist items, simultaneously placing her hand on the corresponding item in the cockpit. She did this over and over until she had the procedures and cockpit flow patterns down pat. She was especially mindful of the specially marked ‘memory items’ on the checklists. The majority of an aircraft checklist is not meant to be committed to memory but there are certain items, especially those involving an emergency that must be memorized. When an emergency situation occurs such as an engine fire, the crew doesn’t have the luxury of time to pull out their checklists and casually stroll through it. Immediate and correct action could mean the difference between life and death. Cassie felt confident she was ready for anything in a ‘Goat.’

 

Her diligence had paid off in big dividends because Cassie knew her way around the ‘Goat’s’ cockpit almost as well as the old timers. Her work ethic was a trait she learned from her father and it didn’t take long for the station manager to learn about it. Colin, naturally, mentioned it to Scooter and Rueben. Soon everyone at the Nassau base started looking at the petite new hire in a different way. This girl was a hard worker and true professional. She was going to be a great addition to the Mercator family.

 

Cassie repositioned her seat to give her slightly more leverage on the rudder pedals, now that she was going to be the pilot flying.

 

 

“PARKING BRAKE............................... SET”

”LANDING GEAR HANDLE................... DOWN”

”DROP TANK JETTISON...................... OFF”

”BATTERY........................................... ON”

Cassie made sure the Voltmeter Selector switch was in the BUS position and that the battery voltage was reading 24 volts.

”INVERTERS....................................... #1 ON, #2 & #3 OFF”

”INVERTER SELECTOR....................... NORMAL”

 

After running through almost forty checklist items, she and Scooter were closing out the BEFORE STARTING ENGINE section using the ‘Challenge and Reply’ system familiar to countless numbers of aviators worldwide. Sometimes a ‘Challenge’ would require multiply actions before a ‘Reply’ was given.

 

Coast Guard ‘Goat’s’ sported a gadget on the left rear corner of the pedestal that looked like a rolodex on steroids. This was the checklist. Mercator had forsaken this device and each crewmember had a laminated card that allowed them more freedom of movement while conducting the checks. 

 

”MIXTURES......................................... IDLE CUTOFF”

”SUPERCHARGER.............................. LOW AND LOCKED”

”GUST LOCKS..................................... OFF”

”THROTTLES” – Cassie cracked the throttles to a position that corresponded to about 1,000 RPM then responded….”SET”

”MANIFOLD PRESSURE….................. NOTED”

 

It was time to crank up the big Wright radials. This was a choreographed dance between pilot, copilot, and the fire guard standing outside on the dark tarmac.

 

“RIGHT ENGINE” – Cassie indicated to Rueben they were ready to start the right engine and he gave her the all clear signal.

She depressed the right starter switch as the prop swung through twelve blades of arc. Then she switched on the ignition and fuel boost pump. The engine sputtered to life.

She immediately reset the right throttle to give them 1,000 RPM, ensuring she didn’t exceed 1,400 RPM during the start.

Then Scooter called out the next item: “HYDRAULIC PRESSURE”

Cassie lowered the flaps to their full down position and confirmed that the main hydraulic system pressure rose to the appropriate level and then returned to zero. She then reached up and turned the Rudder Boost on and pushed her left and right rudder pedals in and out to walk the rudder back and forth, while simultaneously checking the hydraulic pressure fluctuation range. Then she raised the flaps and continued to walk the rudder several more times.  The system checked out and she reached over her head once again and secured the Rudder Boost.

Scooter called - “VACUUM PRESSURE” and Cassie responded – “CHECKED.”

Then the left engine was started and the Fuel Boost Pumps were secured to confirm a drop in fuel pressure. The #2 inverter was placed online and the radios checked.

About this time Rueben climbed into his seat and reported that the Gear Locks, Pitot Cover, Squat Bar and Ladder had all been removed and stowed.

Upon hearing this Cassie asked, “Ready for Taxi?” and Rueben and Scooter responded in unison, “Ready.”

 

About 40 minutes later the Albatross was level at FL160. Cassie toggled the prop switches to give her 2,300 RPM, then tapped the throttles back a little to get 34” of manifold pressure. The air speed indicator needle settled down on 150 kts indicated. Then cowl flaps and oil coolers were reset as was the Carb Heat and finally, Cassie set the mixture controls, one at a time. It was time to relax a little and monitor the gauges and their navigation and keep and eye on any possible traffic conflicts.

 

Radar coverage in this area was non-existent. And it was notorious as a preferred drug smugglers route flying loads up from South America. Since those aircraft flew without any lights, it was extremely prudent for crews to stay alert. Everyone, including Rueben, kept a sharp watch. Since starting with Mercator, Scooter had spotted ‘exhaust stack flames’ late at night, on two occasions. He reported those to the Bahamas Defense Force who passed the info on to the Coast Guard and learned later that one was a guy with an electrical problem but the other was a smuggler.

 

The trip back from Providenciales was slow and monotonous. The night was extremely dark and the only thing that was keep the crew company was the loud, incessant din of the engines. An occasional radio call from sector controllers also filled the time.

“So Cass’ who inspired you to go into aviation….Earhart, Cochran, Wagstaff?” rattling off a short list of famous female aviators he was familiar with.

“Actually, it was my Uncle Charlie in Anchorage.”

Between sector calls Cassie filled in her new Captain and Rueben on her path to the cockpit of this particular Mercator aircraft.

“How about you Captain?” she asked, as she scanned the darkness outside the windscreen. She was still using the more formal address not yet completely comfortable calling a man twice her age ‘Scooter.’

“Jacques Cousteau. I was an oceanography nut growing up. Got my degree in it at the Coast Guard Academy, then spent a year aboard a medium endurance cutter on the Grand Banks counting foreign trawlers. We use to carry a deployed helo for FishPat’s (Fisheries Patrols). The pilots that went with us seemed to have it a whole lot better than I did standing my eight hours of bridge watch everyday and then a pretty full plate of paperwork too. I concluded it would be more exciting flying over the banks as an ‘airdale’ than sailing on them as a sailor, so after my obligatory year at sea, I applied for flight training and was accepted.”

Cassie asked why he had to wait a year to go to flight school.

“Guys out of Annapolis (U.S. Naval Academy) or the Air Force Academy can go directly to flight school but not in the Coast Guard. Their policy is you have to spend a year aboard a cutter prior to applying for flight training. It makes you appreciate the flying more that way”, he said with a chuckle in the microphone.

Cassie, feeling that the old Navy Chief had been excluded from their conversation, directed a question to Rueben, who was standing in the aisle between the two pilots resting his arms on their seat backs.

“What about you Rueben?”

“Roy Rogers, but since the cowboy profession was kinda dying out and the draft was hot on my heels during Viet Nam, I joined the Navy and here I am today, a proud product of your United States Navy!”

They all had a chuckle at that response.

 

As they flew just to the east of Great Exuma Island, Rueben leaned over Cassie’s seat momentarily and glanced at the GPS screen. They were abeam the southern end of Andros Island, though it was invisible in the inky darkness that surrounded them.

Rueben straightened up and said, “Scooter, tell Cass’ about the flare case you guys had off Andros back in the seventies.”

“What happened Captain?”

“In the mid 1970’s I was flying ‘Goats’ out of Coast Guard Air Station Miami out of Opa Locka Airport. Well, one night BASRA (Bahamian Air Sea Rescue Association - pronounced baz-rah - a volunteer organization) calls Miami RCC  (Rescue Coordination Center) and asked for aircraft assistance on several reported red flares seen off the southeastern tip of Andros, down in the Tongue of the Ocean. AUTEC was unable to fly that night for some reason. Anyhow, I was on the OPS desk that evening at the Airsta so I alerted the duty ‘Goat’ crew and after a briefing they launched and headed out.”

“What time was this?”  Cassie asked.

“About one in the morning.”

“Our resident hot stick pilot, Commander Crawford, was the AC (Aircraft Commander – the military equivalent to Pilot in Command) that evening and his CP (co-pilot) was a very junior aviator fresh out of Pensacola. This guy Crawford thought he was God’s gift to aviation. Well they poured the coals to her and got down to the search area in a little over an hour. About two hours into the search Crawford blurts out he thinks he saw something. Now you gotta’ keep in mind this was a moonless night, black as a well digger’s &%#$ out there. There are no reference lights on the southern half of Andros to speak of. So Crawford bends the plane around in a steep turn and tells everyone he is departing the 1,000 foot altitude they had established as their hard deck (the altitude they would not go below) and was going lower to get a closer look. He instructs the entire crew, including his CP, to keep a sharp eye out from their respective stations as he makes a low pass over the area.”

“Don’t tell me!” Cassie blurted out.

“Yep, you got the drift I think.” Scooter said.

“That numb nuts flew the aircraft right into the water. Good thing they were only looping along at around 110-120 kts at the time. They hit the water in a slight nose high attitude, which was a good thing for them. Needless to say, the jolt brought them all to their senses and they aborted the mission and returned to Miami.”

At this point Rueben chimed in, “God I love to hear about idiots like this, especially when I don’t have to fly with them.”

“They got back around daybreak and we launched another plane to look them over prior to landing. Their gear was OK and nothing was hanging down to impede a landing so the decision was made to land. After they taxied in, we all walked out to the aircraft and the sight was unbelievable. The whole %#$&. - excuse my English – underside of the hull from the nose gear doors back to the step (the area where the pronounced Vee hull cuts off in line with the main gear) looked just like an old washboard. Man you talk about mangled!”

“What happened to the crew?” Cassie asked.

“Well old Commander Crawford had his AC designation yanked and the entire air station went on a safety stand down for 2 days, so we could have our butts professionally chewed on by our CO (Commanding Officer). The CP learned a valuable lesson too. He told me later he knew he should have been watching the gauges while everyone else was gawking out the windows but since Crawford was such an ‘Attila the Hun’ type, he just followed orders instead of speaking up.”

“Any questions?” Rueben said softly, over Cassie’s left shoulder.

“No,” Cassie said. “but it does go to show that luck can only keep a fool out of harms way for so long before it catches up with them. It also reinforces some wisdom my uncle use to drum into me. He said that no matter how senior and experienced your Captain was, if he screwed something up, then the most junior copilot in the world had better speak up and point out the error because if he didn’t, he would arrive at the accident scene at the same time as the Captain. Uncle Charlie also told me that seniority and experience were not the same things.”

Scooter nodded, “Your Uncle Charlie sounds like a pretty savvy guy. If you ever catch me doing something stupid, let me know, loud and clear. That’s if you can beat old Rueben here to the punch first!”

They all chuckled.

“I will Captain.”

 

About 60 nm south of Nassau the lumbering Albatross started down. Cassie set up for the descent and at 15,000 feet she shifted the supercharger from high to low blower and locked it in place. Scooter called Mercator Base and reported their position giving them an ETA and asked Colin to tell the guys in the maintenance shop that they had no gripes on the aircraft to report. Nassau was reporting moderate winds out of the southeast with ‘scattered’ clouds at fifteen hundred and eighteen hundred feet and thunderstorms in the area. The scattered cloud report turned out to be slightly in error. Nassau was using runway 14, as usual, and as Cassie and the crew neared the south shore of New Providence Island they started to encounter moderate buffeting from the local storm. Large licks of brilliant lightening appeared out of nowhere that illuminated every cranny of the darkened cockpit, followed by loud claps of thunder and then the cockpit would go dark again. All of them felt the need to haul down a little tighter on their shoulder harnesses. The ground only occasionally peeked through a very small hole in the seemingly solid cloud layer below, the same cloud layer that had been reported as scattered.

“Sure looks like a hellva’ lot thicker than ‘scattered’ to me, “ Scooter remarked, peering out his side window.

 

Everyone went through their final cockpit checks and as they passed through three thousand feet they started to break out of the solid clouds. They were now just west of the downtown area of Nassau, over Cable Beach, with Lake Killarney and the airport off their left wing. Discovery Island passed down the right side and they leveled off at two thousand feet; Cassie called for 15 degrees of flaps.  She then rolled the aircraft into a left back and called for more flaps. On her command Scooter extended the landing gear. Just then a sudden wind gust lifted them in their seats and just as quickly dropped them back down. Cassie, with her arm extended to the throttle levers on the overhead, rolled the aircraft left once again and when she leveled the wings she was perfectly aligned with runway centerline. Rueben tapped Scooter twice gently on the shoulder in acknowledgment of this. Cassie was too busy to notice.

 

A gentle screech of rubber and they were on the runway. They rolled all the way down to the far end the runway to the turnoff for Million Air FBO. The Mercator hanger stood silently in the far corner of the ramp, its signage lit against the stormy night sky, lights where still on in the offices.

Cassie swung the aircraft around in front of the hanger and applied the brakes for the last time that day. Rueben had opened the main door on the taxi in and was already out of the aircraft, installing the chocks and squat bar. Cassie set 1,000 RPM and allowed the engines to run for 30 seconds to scavenge residual oil from the engine cylinders and send it back to the oil tank before shutdown. She finally pulled the mixture levers to their idle cutoff positions and the big radials coughed and wound down until they were silent. Ignition switches were secured and the gyros caged.  Radios, vent switches, inverters, lights, battery and voltmeter switches were all secured. The aircraft fell eerily silent and dark.

 

Scooter swung the center pedestal up and locked it in place. He slid out of his seat and grabbed his kit bag from behind his seat and made his way through the cockpit door, ducking his head to clear the overhead coaming. Cassie followed and as she exited the cockpit, she retrieved Rueben’s flight bag and the snack bag from the jump seat behind Scooter’s. In a few moments Cassie was standing next to her Captain at the foot of the aircraft ladder. Rueben came around from the tail of the aircraft, saw his gear and the paper bag at Cassie’ feet and said “Thanks kid!”

Scooter stood silent for a few seconds and then said, “It was a good day gang.” This was high praise from a guy who held compliments to a minimum.

“Cassie you did a great job today and that approach and landing was super. I’m really glad to have you on our team.”

“Thanks Scooter”, Cassie said, using her Captain’s nickname for the first time. It didn’t go unnoticed by either of the guys.

Then Rueben chimed in with, “You done good kid.”

“I really appreciate the feedback guys. I’ll do my best to keep us out of the weeds,” she said with a warm smile on her face. As they all walked inside to finish their paperwork Rueben, holding his gear bag in one hand and a rumpled paper sack in the other asked,

“Anyone want these burgers we have left, if not I’m taking them home for Jake?”

“Whose Jake?” Cassie asked.

“My cat.  Only eats ‘human’ food. You couldn’t get a can of cat food down his throat if you hog tied him.”

It was late. In the distance a clap of thunder rolled through the heavens followed a few seconds later by another lick of blue-white lightening.

 

It had been a very long day, exactly as the magazine ad had promised so many months before in the snack bar on Kodiak Island.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

CREDITS & REFERENCE LINKS

 

AIRCRAFT

Grumman HU-16 Albatross by Greg Pepper and Michael Verlin.

Available at FlightSim.Com

File names : hu16_20.zip and hu16_2su.zip

Mercator livery design and repaint by the author.

 

PANEL

Original by Ken Mitchell. Available at FlightSim.Com, File name: albkm_p.zip.

Panel modifications by the author.

 

SCENERY

Bahamas – by fs-freeflow @ http://fs-freeflow.com/   

Florida – by fs-freeflow @ http://fs-freeflow.com/

Nassau Airport – by imagineSimulation (payware) @ http://www.imaginesim.com/mynn01.htm.

Mercator Nassau Hanger modifications by the author.

Marsh Harbor Airport– by FlightSim Brasil @ http://paginas.terra.com.br/informatica/flightsimbrasil/index.htm

West Palm Beach Airport – by William Morgan (FRF Studio) @ FlightSim.Com (see link above), File name: frf-kpbi.zip.  

City of West Palm Beach – by Toni Hiltunen - at FlightSim.Com (see link above), File name: westpb.zip

Water Textures – by Ed Truthan available at FlightSim.Com (see link above), File names: oceanstx.zip and oceansfx.zip.  A unique installer by Johan de Vries is also highly recommended and available at FlightSim.Com, File name: ofx20sa.zip.    

 

PREVIOUS FLIGHTSIM.COM ‘FEATURE ARTICLES’ BY THE AUTHOR

 

34 North 164 East – Japan to Hawaii in a DC-8  /main/feature/osv.htm

 

Low and Slow Over Italy (Part 1)  /main/feature/italy1.htm

 

Low and Slow Over Italy (Part 2)  /main/feature/italy2.htm

 

An Ilyushin Run in Russia - Flying the IL-76TD  /main/feature/il76run.htm

 

Atlantic Canada in a YS-11   /main/feature/ys11.htm

 

A Tale of a Whale  /main/feature/f3d.htm

 

A Long Haul in a Hercules (Part 1)  /main/feature/osaka1.htm

 

A Long Haul in a Hercules (Part 2)  /main/feature/osaka2.htm

 

Around Thailand in a DC-6  /main/feature/thaicarg.htm

 

 

Postscript

 

Without the unselfish and tireless efforts of many aircraft, scenery and other FS add-on developers this story would not have been possible. To all those very talented people listed below, and to the thousands of others that contribute daily to sites such as Flightsim.com and Avsim.com for our enjoyment, I can only say - Thank You!

 

If you enjoyed the article or have comments, please let me hear from you. I always look forward to your feedback.

And if you’re interested in learning more about Mercator VA you’re invited to visit us @ http://www.flymercator.com/index.htm

 

Joe Thompson

joe308@zianet.com

ceo@flymercator.com