Leg 006

"A twilight farewell to Brazil"

I spent two extra nights here at Hotel 1000.  Needless to say, my experience didn't lack color.

I'm sitting on the top floor veranda at Hotel 1000 in central Juruti, wishing the owner had the resources to install a ceiling fan or two.  For the past week, temperatures have been over 95F each day.  Unfortunately the Amazon River doesn't offer the same sort of cooling breeze that awaits me in the Caribbean.  I don't dare to use ice in my beverage, so for now, a lukewarm Pan lager will have to do.

As I gaze across the street at the catholic school, considering the juxtaposition of the 1990's-esque cell phone shop contained in its lobby, my mind wanders to the next mission. 

A short time ago, over a breakfast of Pão de queijo, I updated my financial ledger with the new receipts for the cowl flap actuator rod.  Not surprisingly, the cost to purchase & receive the new part has officially put my journey back into the red.  So what happened?

Taking a look at that gorgeous Lycoming O-360 during my preflight, ready to make the haul to French Guiana.

Two mornings ago I went to the airfield, ready to depart to Maripasoula in French Guinea.  Eager to earn my second flag decal, I was all smiles.  It was a late morning, already hot, but with perfectly clear skies all along the way.  I unlocked the pilot's door, barely avoiding the escaping suffocating heat blast.

I started my preflight routine in the normal position: taking a close look at Wanda's nose.  All fine there.  I continued down her fuselage to the left wing root.  The sight of that beefy Lycoming O-360 hanging there off the wing gave me an extra reason to smile.  Dang you're pretty, Wanda.

I continued to travel outward to the left wing tip and everything looked fine: propeller free of nicks, intake openings clear, stall horn intake free, pitot tube clear and wingtip intact.

The cracked cowl flap actuating rod.

I positioned myself to walk back toward Wanda's fuselage along the rear edge of the left wing.  Aileron, free and correct.  Flaps, only a little wiggle.  Cowl flap normal...wait...what's that?  I knelt down on my knees, poking my head into the narrow opening of the cowl flap, and there it was: a cracked actuating rod.

'Humph, I wonder how that happened?  Corrosion?  Was I too rough with the handle in the cockpit?'

The more pressing issue, however, was that here I was in Juruti, with no aircraft mechanic within 100 miles and certainly no Beechcraft distributor.  For 10 minutes I pondered the notion of flying with the cracked rod to a larger airport.  It would obviously have been a bad idea to attempt to open or close the cowl flap in flight, so what if i simply left it open?  Well, I decided, it would be possible the slipstream would push hard enough on the door to snap the rod, which would likely send it flying backward to the rear empennage.  Or maybe I could have flown with it closed?  I decided that, too, was a bad idea, considering the temperature was pushing 100F.

At least there's always something colorful happening in Juruti.

I eventually decided to follow a 2 step plan: (1) find a welder or local equipment to install a temporary patch or (2) use the internet cafe at my hotel to order a new part.  You guessed it: I can now confidently proclaim that Juruti has neither a welder, nor a welding torch.  Option 2 it would be!

I spent nearly an hour locating a suitable replacement rod, which was located at a parts dealer in Manaus.  Because there is no airline service to Juruti, I was able to talk a cabbie into driving to Manaus to pick it up for me.  I offered to tag along, but he used the opportunity to fill his van with additional paying passengers, essentially allowing me to subsidize this evening's special Juruti-Manaus route mostly on my own. 'Ok, no problem' I thought.  'As long as the part gets here tomorrow night, I can be out of Juruti in 2 days time.'

Walking to the airport, praying that José will arrive on time.

How does one spend an extra two days in Juruti?  Quite easily, actually.  Once you can put the oppressive heat and humidity out of your mind, Juruti is a colorful place with really intriguing people.  The pace is slow except when a tanker pulls into the port, which sets off a chain reaction of activity: dockhands rush to their stations, the local ladies vye for the most noticeable spot to hook a thirsty sailor, flower carts are set up, juice wagons are parked, and shops open their doors early.

While my accommodations aren't five star, I am comfortable and enjoying my journey.  My only concern (getting back to the present day) is that the $2,585 I had to spend on the broken rod and its delivery taxi have now put me $270 into the red on this journey.

So, as I ponder the next mission, I decide it will prudent to make only a quick stop at Maripasoula, followed by a beeline to J.A. Pengel Intl. in Zandery, Suriname, where there are plenty of jobs headed for the Caribbean.

My only responsibility now is to take a little nap, and with luck, meet up with José to retrieve the replacement rod.  Once that is in hand, the dealer told me it is a 15 minute fix, then I can be airborne.  I'll have to be careful about timing, as Maripasoula airfield does not have lights.

With a little bit of elbow grease, the new actuating rod is installed & we're ready to roll.

My goal is to depart by 6:30PM local time, so working backward, I need to meet up with José by 5:30PM.  I eat an early dinner at the cafe near my hotel, check out (having faith) and walk to the airport gate.  By the grace of all that is good, José is actually there waiting for me.

"Por que demorou tanto, papai?" he asks.

"Ummmm...de nada"I say pathetically.

With a laugh, José passes over the box and returns to his cashmobile.  With haste, I open Wanda's baggage compartment and take out my toolbox.  Within 15 seconds I am sweaty (this leather jacket wasn't helping), but focused.

Wanda and I are now ready to roll.  Thank you for the hospitality, Juruti!

After 45 minutes of effort (good call, dealer....not!), the rod is swapped, and I am eager to get started on the road to Maripasoula.  I need to arrive there no later than 9:00PM, so we're cutting it close.  I dial in a flightplan that will keep me east of the Suriname border (which requires a permission I do not yet have), double check the dials, switches and levers, and wake up Wanda.

Within 2 minutes Wanda and I are conducting a gentle engine run-up (lots of dust around here) and everything seems solid with the cowl flap.  I say a quick 'goodbye and thanks' to Juruti and depart using full power off runway 10.  (the wind would not allow me to joust with that large tree mentioned in Leg 005...perhaps in the future).

Wanda, who has been quite bored this week, eagerly jumps into the air and is content, even in the high heat, to climb to her cruising altitude of 9,500 feet in less than 6 minutes.  What a champion!

Climbing with gusto out of the short field.

Climbing out of Juruti and over the Amazon, I take a few moments to reflect on the time spent in Brazil.  Without Brazil, I would never have Wanda, nor would I have this wonderful opportunity to venture the 'long way' around the world.  It is a vast country, and I am humbled to only have seen about 5% of it so far.  I will continue my poetic musings once we reach cruise level, no doubt, so for now, I connect my Bose A20 to bluetooth and choose 'Cantata Halt im Gedächtnis Jesum Christ BWV 67' sung by the Van Veldhoven Netherlands Bach Society, as the soundtrack of my climb to heaven.

And for the next 13 minutes, I silently look out my window, glancing occasionally at Wanda's various temperatures and pressures, and simply enjoy the magnificence all around me.  Viva Brazil!

Now configured at tonight's cruise altitude of 9,500.  Wanda is slipping slowly.

The temperature on the ground in Juruti was 99F at departure.  Here at 9,500 feet, it is a magical 47F.  Wanda shows me her relief by sipping 18.2 gallons per hour at 162 knots TAS.  Her temps and pressures are all wonderfully low-green and her cowl flap is snugly resting in the retracted position.

Wanda and I will be here at this altitude for the next two and a half hours together.  I actually turn on the cabin heat for the first time, relieved that it functions.  After pulling the lever, I realize that I never tested it due to the extreme heat these past couple of weeks in Brazil.

I glance at my carbon monoxide detector every 25 miles or so, just in case, but there's nothing to be worried about...Wanda is treating me like a king this evening.

Is there a more comfortable work environment?  I can't think of more than a dozen, honestly.

The next two hours are spent in a pensive, completely satisfied cocoon of relaxing harmony.  The sky & clouds paint magnificent portraits in all 360 degrees of my field of vision.  The landscape is lush and green, often pierced by turbid rivers with white-capped whirlpools and waterfalls.  Over an hour ago I left Brazil behind and entered French Guianan airspace for the first time.  It is an emotional realization that if I'm lucky, the next time I enter Brazilian airspace, Wanda and I will have travelled more than 35,000 miles and will have visited every other country on earth.  Perhaps it is the soft light.  Perhaps it is Wanda's soothing hum.  Whatever it is, there is a small tear in my eye.

*Wipe*

*Glance at the CO detector just to be sure that's not carbon monoxide poisoning setting in.  All clear.*

The twilight colors really accentuate Wanda's chocolatey tones.

French Guiana is a dense blanket of unadulterated rainforest.  There aren't many landmarks to identify, so I am content to allow the GPS to guide Wanda and me using the invisible grid in the sky.

I spend most of the 30 minutes prior to decent studying topographical maps of my arrival to Maripasoula airport.  Due to its proximity to the border of Suriname (which I cannot legally cross), I will need to use the Lawa River to fly a tight right hand traffic pattern to land on runway 7.  It is getting pretty close to dusk now, so I push Wanda a little harder and begin a slow decent that will maximize my groundspeed.

Wanda will rest now, happy to be visiting her second country.

With 15 minutes to spare, Wanda and I make a smooth landing on to the dark Maripasoula runway.  It's a short 2 minute taxi to put Wanda to bed.  She flew like a sparrow tonight, finding only smooth, gentle air.  She dove like a hawk with prey in her eyes, but landed as soft as a feather.  I check the new actuating rod and am happy to see that all is well.  Goodnight, Wanda, my angel.  Rest well.

I will grab a taxi to town and try to catch a few hours of sleep.  In the morning I'll make plans for our next stop - one that will bring us our third flag decal.