Flight Control Failure in the Mountains
All good things must come to an end. As it was, my girlfriend Kristy, the keeper of the calendar told us our departure date was upon us. We have a tradition in our little group, someone keeps the calendar. When we land, everyone takes off their watches and dispenses with electronics. The vacation begins. Someone however must know what day it is to tell us it is time to go. We had spent four amazing days of snorkeling, walking on the amazing beaches and exploring the island on golf carts. Another of Jim’s famous karaoke performances at the Tipsy Seagull would have to wait; it was time to go back to the mainland. We loaded up the taxi and headed to the airport. The Baron was just as we left her and after a pre-flight and a quart of oil, we were loaded up and ready to go.
We lifted off and headed up the east coast of Abaco to the north admiring the desolate beaches and forests. Once we ran out of island to explore, it was time to get back to business. We turned westbound and climbed up to 8,000ft for the return trip. We opened our flight plan with Freeport, it always seems such a chore for them, and transitioned through their TCA (a Class B to you and me).
Around West End, I got the call that always hits me in the gut. It was that Sunday night feeling as a kid when the streetlights came on and the weekend was over and you knew school was in the morning. “N9494S, contact Miami center on xxx.x.” With one frequency change, we were back in the U.S. “N9494S, pick up the DEKAL 4 arrival.” Oh great, an arrival procedure… but this one is easy, hit a point and get vectors. Jim was back in the saddle after eight years of no instrument flying and had everything wired as we went in and out of the broken cumulous at 5,000ft. On downwind for the ILS to runway 9, we were arriving at customs ramp and I remembered there was an FBO that would fuel you as you cleared customs. I had not thought about it before, but we can make a quick turn and make this a quick stop. I clicked on the Fore Flight App on the iPad and selected FBO’s, I got the number and handed it to the backseat to Kristy, who, while both a gorgeous girl and attorney, had also flown Hawkers as a corporate pilot. She called the FBO and the truck was waiting for us on arrival to customs. A quick check of our passports and a scan of the airplane with a Geiger counter to make sure we weren’t packing a nuke, we were on our way. In less than an hour and a half we transitioned from remote island life to the hustle and bustle of American city life. Still, it was a beautiful ride!
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