Leg 005

"The ghostrider invitation"

Almeirim basking in the early morning's glow.

A couple of weeks ago I received an invitation from Skylark2992 to visit the neat little dirt strip at Juruti.  A seasoned sojourner of the vast expanse of Brazil, Skylark lured me in with a private scenery download link, promising expert 3D vegetation, lovely ground textures & a custom Coca-Cola machine.  How could a roving pilot say no to an offer like that?

I'm sitting on the ramp at Almeirim, taking a little breather after this morning's flight past the Monster and the heart.  The weather in Almeirim is wonderfully clear--this 90F heat at 08:30 can really do wonders in burning off the marine layer, eh?

I've got a fresh thermos of local coffee, brewed extra dark and thick.  I'm reminded of the book "4 Day Follies" by Captain X, in which he described his preferred brew as "STS" (Shit That's Strong).  I wonder what old 'Cappy X is doing these days.  He's been quiet for more than a decade, but his book is still the funniest aviation tome I've ever read.  OK, let's get going, Wanda.

We're even lighter for this flight, so Wanda is off in less than 1,000 feet.

The flight plan is simple: follow the Amazon River westward to Juruti, flying 500 feet above its waters for as long as my concentration will allow & buzz a couple local airports along the way.

Special mission note: do not ditch into the Amazon due to fear of piranha annihilation

This flight calls for a special soundtrack, so I've already got a 'mood' playlist loaded into my A20's that includes everything from Cheap Trick to Thalin to M83 to Teddy Swims.  I'll keep it upbeat, energizing & fast, as I expect to be treated to a kaleidoscope of fast-moving color wizzing past my windows only 500 feet below.

Waving goodbye to the soft hills of Almeirim, eager to smell the Amazon.

It's a smooth departure off SNYA's runway 10.  After reaching 800 feet, I start a 200 degree right turn to point me westward again, with Juruti as my target.  Finding the Amazon is easy...it's there, only 2 miles ahead and below.  I leave the autopilot on snooze mode, set a vigorous power setting of '26-squared' and get ready to boogie along the mighty river.

At an altitude of only 500 feet, I'm treated to wonderful sensations, as colorful sandbars and deep green shorelines blow past my window at nearly 190 knots ground speed.  The music is loud in my eyes, the water is sparkling, Wanda is humming and I am grinning.

Wanda does appear in this picture, taken from 10,000 feet.  She's 9,500 feet below, in the middle of that left-most channel, near the tip of the sandbar.  (see map above)

I spend the first 20 minutes of today's flight following twisted waterways that snake in and out of sandbars and small islands.  I've already lost count of the number of canoes and trawlers that I've seen.  Admittedly, it's fun being up here, seeing their surprised faces, as Wanda's 360 horsepower interrupts their quiet morning.  I get a few waves, but mostly blank stares as I show off the underside of my queen to the locals.

I slice from the southern shore to the north shore at the midway water break running between two large islands in preparation for my first attack: I plan to make a high speed flyby of the dirt strip at Prainha.  I've been listening to the radio for local traffic for the past 15 minutes, but it seems that everyone is still asleep.

In my best naval voice, I boldly announce, "Prainha traffic, N752KE Ghostrider 5 miles straight in to buzz the field."  I may not look like Tom, but God that feels good saying it.

Ghostrider shows them the goods.  I hope no one was tipping up a coffee just now.  (Because, sure, I sound just like an F-14, right?)

I want to make as much noise as possible, so I give Wanda max power, full props and full rich mixture as we approach the strip 100 feet off the deck.  There is a little house-style building at midfield, south of the runway, so I decide to give them a photo pass this morning.  Wanda flies so beautifully in a 45 degree steep left bank as POD screams "I...I feel so alive..." into my ears.

I didn't see anyone at the field, so I decide to keep following the Amazon westward.  I climb back up to the lofty perch of 500 feet, bring back the power to a reasonable 25 squared with slightly-leaned mixtures to keep the plugs carbon-free.  I'm already more than 1/3 of the way to Juruti and I'm wishing this flight would never end.

I swear that looks like a 36 hole course down there.  How can nature be so perfect?

Leaving the Prainha plateau, I'm treated to lush, green swamps on the Amazon north shore, rippled with white sandbars.  It's almost as if someone has developed a spectacular golf course at this very location.  I check my tablet, curious if perhaps this is some sort of resort.  No--it's simply native, virgin, wonderful Brazil.

My playlist randomly chooses "The Cure" by Lady Gaga, and I decide that it is the perfect tune for the next five minutes of truly inspirational flying.  The lushness of the coast & the water's clarity are definitely a cure for any mental ailment.  I'm feeling fantastic, and Wanda is running like a racehorse.

(Waves + sand)*tide/time = beauty

Wanda and I stay on the north shore, ready to make our next attack on the big runway at Monte Alegre.  I do pick up some local traffic on the CTAF, which whets my appetite to announce myself as Ghostrider again.  What the heck--live at least once, right?

And now the playlist randomizer goes for "Glory of Love" by Peter Cetera.  Somehow that magical voice is actually making the sun look brighter.  Ok, time for shades.  See you in 5 minutes, Monte Alegre.  You had better prepare for what I have in store for you.

"Like a knight in shining in armor, from a long time ago...just in time I will save the day and take you to my castle far away..."

Wanda and I are still at 500 feet, autopilot asleep, screaming down the Amazon at 175 knots groundspeed and my playlist just now plays "Crash Into Me" by Dave Matthews.  I laugh out loud & focus on the song for what it is - the dirtiest lyrics ever written...nevermind about the 'crash stuff'.  Dave's mellow chords and chill vocals perfectly echo the serene reflections of the trees on the north shore.

I wave at a couple more small boats and can feel the excitement building for my grand entrance at Monte Alegre.  Wanda, you're about to see the world from a different angle, my lovely angel.

There's the cut.  Let's bisect it, Wanda.

Just 8 miles east of Monte Alegre I pick up the skinny little river-cut into the north shore.  I keep Wanda low and fast, turning slightly south to fly right down the center as Dave weeps "Crash into meeeeeee....."

Within moments, I've saved by 30 Seconds to Mars and "Seasons."  Phew, that was close, Mr. Matthews.

On CTAF: "Monte Alegre traffic, Duchess Ghostrider 2 miles to the east for low pass."  My testosterone surges momentarily.

Back on CTAF: "Must be an American..."

You caught me.

This maneuver begins at 50 feet AGL with a slight correction for crosswind.

According to AWOS, there's a gentle breeze blowing nearly perpendicular to the runway from the south.  When deciding which direction to throw the knife edge, I was taught to put my belly into the wind.

Wanda and I come over the threshold at 50 feet, just under the yellow line, slightly to the left of the RW28 centerline.  I hold her surging airframe down there until midfield and then bang...a nice 2G pull up to 30 degrees, full right aileron, full left rudder, and Wanda is standing on her right wing.  It's a knife edge profile so pure, Clancy Speal would have been proud.  I give the radio a little "yeehawwwww" for effect.

Organizing physical forces so that power is now creating lift and centrifugal force is keeping us parallel to terra firma.

At the top of my arc, my playlist wisely chooses "Head and Heart" by Joel Curry.  Those opening bars sound so sweet, as my body is rotated 90 degrees to the earth and I feel euphoric.  I only wish I had an afterburner to light to complete the effect.

I allow Wanda to relax after holding her in suspended motion for more than 2,000 feet of runway.  The wings chomp back into the air and with a full head of steam, she is begging me to fly.  I decide to abandon the 500 foot level and allow Wanda to scream upward to 2,500 feet at nearly 45 degrees nose high.  Ghostrider leaving the pattern...

How many shades of green and brown are out there?  It's got to be millions...

We're now half way to Juruti, level at 2,500 feet.  I've brought the power, props and mixture back to gentle levels and settle in to watch the magnificent coastline go past my windows.  So far the Amazon has given me a rich tapestry of deep greens, dark browns and patches of surprising white sands.  I am curious what else I am to find, as just to the west of Monte Alegre the mighty river is filled with plenty of scattered little islands.

My playlist rewards me with "Serotonin" from One Republic, which puts me in a relaxed, reflective mood.  Wanda and I are both at peace, watching the world pass us by.

The gathering of Monsters.  We'll remain to the north.

If you recall, this morning Wanda and I had an interesting flight through some patchy rain and past a single Monster.  Looking south again, I can see the Monster has called in his friends.  I predict that the monster mash will stay south of the river, so we'll continue to hug the north shore.  Those clouds surely are gorgeous, though.

So far the flight has been glass smooth, with a nice 6 knot tailwind.  Wanda and I are starting to pick up a few small bumps, but that's not surprising, given the number of little islets floating down there.  That little 6 knot tailwind relentlessly bashes into those thick copses, getting pushed upward and turning into a 'pothole in the sky' for Wanda and me.  I've got 'Otto' flying the airplane at the moment while I use my hands to study the VFR chart into Juruti.  He doesn't seem to mind the bumps, nor do I.

The details.  Oh, the details.

One of my favorite quotes is Walt Disney's "there is no magic in magic, for it's in the details."  This comes to mind as Wanda and I cruise over a completely luscious islet composed of individually-unique brown pools.  After taking a moment to appreciate the landscape, I think of my preflight walk-around...

Wanda's details are just as magnificent.  Now that she and I have several legs under our belts, I'm able to now notice the things that make this Beechcraft special.

For example, consider the exposed push rod on the elevator trim tab.  The aperture from which it extends is an elegant solution to the inconvenient location of the horizontal stabilizer.  Or her corrugated flaps.  Or her symmetrical foot steps.  Just like the landscape, I'm in my cozy cockpit, admiring Wanda.

My playlist must know this.  What's the next track up?  "Nothing's Gonna Stop Us Now" by Starship.  Come on, Wanda, you magnificent beast.  Let's get to Juruti.

The water.  The sunken coast.  The lovely Duchess.  The perfect shot.

My VFR charts (which seem to be weirdly out of date and light on detail) suggest my best action is approach Juruti airfield from the northeast, overfly midfield at 1,500, then enter a left hand downwind over the port.  If I can't spot the strip amongst the thicket, I'll orbit the harbor, which will put me 1.5 nautical miles from the field.  And if I can't spot an airport from that distance, what the heck am I doing up here?

Next up on the playlist: "Nobody Else" by the Backstreet Boys.  The music mood is on point this morning.

The promised land of Juruti is only 2 minutes away now.

What was I worried about?  I spot Juruti airfield nearly five miles away.  It's a wonderfully-intense brown streak (wow, that sounds bad) just east of the port.  I'm looking forward to my overhead break, as I still am channeling the spirit of Ghostrider it seems.

As I pass midfield, I decide to delay my breaking turn for a few moments so I can get a closer look at that large ship in port.  Is that what I think it is?  Could that be the cheeky Laminar Queen down there?  It is!  Unless I biff the landing, this day is turning out to be perfect.

Gear down, flaps 10, lights on, I join the left downwind for runway 7.  My playlist gives me its final opinion of the day: my landing track shall be "Lovers in a Past Life" by Rag'n'Bone Man.  Very cool.

OK, I see it...there's a giant tree on the centerline.  Time to side slip this menace.

I set up a nice, short 2 mile final and notice it: there's a terribly-tall tree exactly on the centerline, 500 yards from the threshold.  Well, Wanda, time for our first side slip on to the dirt.  My subconscious mind registers the fact that this tree will make for an excellent 'short field over obstacle' takeoff practice on the next flight.

Like the professionals we are, Wanda and I tiptoe around the tree and make a soft landing on the warm dirt of Juruti.  It's nearly 100 degrees outside - a fact that hits me in the face once my airspeed is under 30 knots.  I make a quick taxi to the ramp and park next to the friendly gate that welcomes me to Juruti.  I must admit: this place is gorgeous and the scenery is stunning, Skylark2992.  Thank you for the invitation, my friend.

I resist the urge to scribble "Maxwell & Wanda were here". 
Thanks for the invitation!  Juruti is awesome!

After I tuck Wanda in tight for her stay in Juruti, I explore the ramp.  Skylark2992 challenged me to find a special FIFA vending machine, so I keep my eyes peeled.  I check out the parked (abandoned?) FedEx C208, when I notice the "C shack" (as we call it in Pilotland) just behind it.

Me: Aha!  There you are!  You know, I flew an extra 300 miles out of my way to see you, vending machine.  May I please have a cold Coca-Cola?

Vending machine: I haven't been stocked since the World Cup, sir!

Me: Dolttttt!

I look around the crew building and find a much better VFR map of the area with a thoughtful red arrow marking my "you are here" location.  I take note of the local taxi numbers & make some calls.  There's a lovely little port over there and I've got some exploring to do.  And I've got to formulate a plan of how to get from here, in beautiful Juruti to my second country...I intend to start my flag decal collection on the next leg.