Home is Where we Hook-up

The Conifor (Mexican forest service) is always interesting to work with. I enjoyed running my own show in Ensenada, but it had its price. These folks will kill you if you let them. We had two fires in three days. One was about 3500 acres and one was about 150 acres. We had the only helicopter and a total ground force of 16 firefighters and an unknown number of soldiers. We usually work with the soldiers but this particular fire had soldiers deployed separately from the Conifor personnel. That situation was new to me but like I have said before nothing is as it seems down in Mexico.

Our fire suppression efforts began with me flying two guys from protection civil and an older gentlemen who had water in several containers. One water box was supposed to be left for the older mans two sons, who’d decided to fight the fire on their own. Volunteers? We were going to perhaps air drop the water to his sons if we could not land. That did not sound good. I had two guys I didn’t know, and a Father who I am sure had never even sat in a helicopter before. After some explaining about what we would and would not do, I made it clear that the cardboard box with the water would not be floating out the door (toward the tailrotor). Since nobody had helicopter experience, one of my people would do any water drops that may be required.
Off we go. Dad apparently knew where his boys were, based on a cell phone call he got before the batteries went dead on their phone. We spotted soldiers while looking for the boys. No shovels and Pulaskis for the soldiers, only small arms and they were not waving. Not liking the developments, I started to ask a few questions. It’d been about 20 minutes flying around the fire and the boys were not in sight. Well, Dad decided to fess up. It seems his boys were out protecting their marijuana farm and since they didn’t know who we were, the old man thought it might be good to have his smiling face delivering the water so the boys did not actually shoot us. Good idea, but I have a better one.

Back on the ground we loaded firefighters and got back to work, now quite aware that I have armed combatants on the fire. We got lucky and a soaking rain lands on the fire and puts most of it out. All 3500 acres. Thanks for the break.
Its time for an evening perimeter flight, see if we have anything kicking up on the edges of the fire. We spot a small fire in a green ravine in a green island in the fire. I am suspicious. I fly over and see some irrigation lines. Oh,oh. Vamanos rapido.

“Yes, I saw what I saw” I tell my boss from Conifor and “Hell no! I will not return.” There was at least one person I spotted down in the trees. We recorded the G.P.S. coordinates and reported the suspected marijuana site to the soldiers when we land back at the main fire “base”. The next day we brought a clean up crew for some hot spots on the perimeter. As fate would have it the only major spot fire was near the marijuana garden. No bueno. I landed the crew close on a road and shut down. After a few minutes the crew was in place and I was above on the road looking down into the ravine. There was movement in the bushes down the ravine below the crew. I climbed a rock out-cropping for a better view.

“Its only soldiers” I announce to the crew. Hearing this, the crew scrambled quickly uphill towards the helicopter. Well, I wasn’t nervous, ’till I saw that. Soon I was beside the helicopter, telling the crew that I would not start the ship. I saw the soldiers when I was jogging to the ship and they would be here in seconds. They were. No guns were pointed, but I soon saw why. There were 4 soldiers on rocks nearby who had us covered. Six other soldiers checked us out. No problem. Just tell them who we are and we should be good right? “Well maybe,” the interpreter says as he looks at his shoes. “Maybe?” I repeat. “Yes, well soldiers sometimes plant marijuana to supplement meager incomes and they do have the vehicles for the back country and they definitely have the weapons.” My interpreter/manager interjects, looking more than nervous.
We show I.D., and were thanked. Good, so far. I could follow most of the conversation. Everyone spoke slowly and carefully.
“Did we see anything yesterday around the Marijuana ‘garden’,” they asked? I asked the interpreter “has anyone said anything that I should know about?” “No,Nothing!” He just about shouts. Okey dokey, then I don’t imagine I will be talking about the person in the trees near the marijuana garden I saw yesterday. I won’t be mentioning that the guy had a yellow dirty t-shirt and army fatigues. You can buy army fatigues anywhere I am sure. Probably wasn’t a soldier and I don’t really want to know.

Nothing is as it seems down here in Mexico.

Well, actually, I was driving. Fast. I was late, even though I was up at 04:00 and had crossed the border at Tijuana without incident. My helicopter was sitting at an airport on the coast south of Ensenada, Mexico. The pilot I was replacing that day was on the cell phone as I blasted down the coast highway. His voice had a familiar sound of stress I’d heard in my own voice under similar circumstances. A long, tough tour and you had better get me out of here, NOW! Flying in foreign countries can be stressful. Mexico had always been of interest, but the pilot stories coming back were enough to have me questioning my current decision. Oh well, another flyin’ adventure.

A couple of wrong turns and a chance to chat amiably with armed guards at the wrong military base, I was soon meeting the pilot I was to replace. Very foggy weather on the coast gave us the chance to do a proper briefing. How unique. Mike’d been flying down here in the 212 (Bell, twin Huey) for a couple months or so, without a day off. A couple hours later, listening to Mikes stories I told him “You tell me one more story, I’ll be racing you to the truck.” He’d noticed that I had not yet given him the keys for the truck. “After we fly the ship” I told him. We are eventually off to the fire and not back until almost dark in the fog.Long duty day, about 17 hours long. No rules here on the duty day length. The previous day I’d been up at 06:00, flown a FAA part 135 check ride, gotten in the truck and drove for 6 hours from Fresno, CA to Chula Vista. Duty day end at 21:30. Supper with Mike and a short nap and it would be the start of my tour. Maybe a good meal and some rest would start me feeling better about my choice to come down here.

03:30 projectile vomiting into the toilet. Mike had left in the truck at 04:00, see ya, would love to be ya. Back to the toilet. Note to self; Americano canned goods in your diet from this point on, Keith. Try the Tacos de Pescado in Ensenada, I had been told by by friends back in California.

Day two of my tour in Mexico

It’s foggy at the airport, the flight plan is filed. It’s below legal weather limits for flight and yet, the flight plan is approved by the military officer at the airport. The weather is ceiling indefinite – about 100′ to 200′ fog and about 1/4 mile visibility. I call the tower to depart. “No Senor, the weather is below minimums for flight”. “Why yes it is,” I say “Could I hover the helicopter away from the fuel area to the helipad?” My customer is the Mexican version of the Forest Service, Conifor is the primary organization responsible for fighting wildland fires in Mexico. My Conifor boss seems to be wound tighter than a twelve day clock, and the news that we are not launching has him jumping from the helicopter and heading back to the airport office. A few minutes later, Conifor guy is back – and surprise – the tower is calling me to tell me that I am cleared to take off. Ok, sure, why not. Down the highway, over the power lines, up the canyon. Mucho power lines beside me and now above me into the clouds. Home again, home again to the Ensenada airport. “Yes, tower, I know it’s below VFR. You let me go 10 minutes ago in the very same weather. Thank you for letting me return.”

Back on the ground at the airport, Conifor guy is throwing a major fit worthy of any three year old. Very amusing. After several minutes of watching the weather not improve, the Conifor guy is back yelling at my company rep/translator. My spanish is good enough to know that the Conifor man thinks my flying skills are limited, and that we should have merely gone vertical up through the fog to get on top and over the coastal mountains. Not happening, but thanks for your input and critique of my flying. The Conifor man now announces that there is another canyon free of wires that is more suitable. I think to myself “This is good information to have had, say, an hour ago when you were on your way to your first massive coronary or stroke.” Off we go in not legal weather and we make it to the fire. The day looks good and the firefighters are placed in non-effective strategically ridiculous locations around the fire. Toe in’s at 7,000′ with guys who leap out of the ship, shovels overhead and climb the hill toward the blades. And they wonder why the Gringo pilot leaves so quickly. To avoid chopping the shovel and your head off at the same time perhaps. Apparently yesterday’s water drops were perilously close to sleeping positions near the crew.Conifor boss will fly with me to help direct my drops. Ohhhh, good. I proceed down the canyon with a long line and bucket at warp speed to a very tight water hole in the creek. Conifor guy is looking a little pale as he screams something into the intercom. Sorry, no comprendez that phrase. I think about telling him that his door is off, and he should feel free to puke down the side of the ship. I do tell him “Yes, I can hit that spot as directed by your ground crew”.Apparantly your crew also enjoys screaming into the radio. Thank you for the thumbs up. Very reassuring, excellent choice of drop locations at the tail of the fire – clear of smoke and any real active flame. Lets ignore the head of the fire, and the fact that if it jumps the creek it will be gone into the National park and the observatory above us. My spanish and gesturing seem to be unheeded. It is only important to drop where the crew is doing nothing. Ok, sure, why not.

The work is not getting better. The fuel truck is missing.Off we fly to find the truck. Found it 60 miles away,located at a roadside Cantina and gas station. Fight fire for another hour and a half and no fuel truck but I have remembered to save enough lost fuel truck reserve jet fuel. Dust cloud on wrong dirt road finds truck. Fuel the helicopter and another attempt at directions. The truck has contaminated fuel in it’s tank and the driver needs to stop and replace the fuel filter every 50 miles or so. I try not to worry about my helicopter fuel condition, Truck arrives near day end, and I have fuel to fly back to Ensenada. We will not be sleeping in the dirt on the mountain top, as was suggested by Conifor boss. Sorry, but I have had no food today and a night without gear on the mountain to wake up to a bottle of water and a truck with only 1 hours fuel left in it does not appeal to me. Another less impressive fit by Conifor guy and we are off to the fog banks along the coast. Low level, low speed arrival at Ensenada terminates at the helipad surrounded by freshly plowed field. Fog followed by brownout landing.The airport Commandante has summoned me to his office . I am apparently in violation of flying in weather below minimums. Interesting. Through the translator I have explained to the Commandante that my flight plan was accepted and that the tower cleared me to fly. Never the less, Gringo, there is a penalty ,fine to be paid. “Ohhhh, a fine” I say, “Well, in that case, you need to talk to my translator manager here. He has some pesos, and I do not. I never will have any pesos, dollars or dinero of any kind. What I do have is a contract that pays me a daily rate, whether I fly or not. I am off to the grocery story to buy some canned goods and bottled water. Have a great evening and call me if you need me to fly tomorrow morning, I can hardly wait.”

Two days down and 60 more to go.

**Editor’s note: This is just one of several stories Keith has to tell from his summer in Mexico – it is out of chronological order, but we both thought they warrant blog time. Enjoy his stories, there are more to come