Summing up my time in Timor-Leste

Now that I've had a couple of weeks to 'decompress', I'm able to look back on my time in Timor-Leste with some fondness. Although it was quite stressful for the last month or so as we were running around trying to arrange for engineers and aircraft to come and fix our aircraft that was grounded in mid-October, I've been able to take a step back and look at the bigger picture.

 

The Highlights

1. Flying experience

The reason that I went to Timor was to fill a relief pilot role, and I'm grateful for the opportunity. Not only was it 192 hrs for my logbook, but this was my first experience of 'proper' commercial flying. That means organising yourself around your client rather than your own preferences (e.g. what time you set your alarm in the morning). The flights varied from medevacs to NGO charters, to private charters for families wanting to go to Atauro Island for the weekend, to government charters for ministers and even the President of Oecusse.

Flying the President of Oecusse and other ministers

I also gained invaluable experience taking off and landing on 'proper' short airstrips, and also having to contend with some serious weather.

All of these will be useful when it comes to developing flight training scenarios, as I'll have personal experience to draw on!

 

2. Medevacs - making a difference

During my debrief the interviewers asked how the medevacs had affected me, and they seemed surprised when I said they hadn't - even though there had been some that were quite severe. I guess I have an ability to compartmentalise things, and to be able to focus on my task of flying the aircraft even when there is a critically ill person on board calling out in pain, or a woman in labour, or when the front seat passenger is vomiting into a sick bag on finals (yes, that happened - more than once). It's not that I don't care about the person, or that every medevac starts to feel the same and it gets mundane - far from it. I took great satisfaction in seeing each one transferred to the ambulance in Dili and taken to hospital.

All up I flew 91 medevacs, accounting for 111 patients; the most in a single day being 4 flights with 7 patients. It was an honour to be able to make a difference in their lives.

Preparing medevac passengers for a flight to Dili

3. Being a role model

The first couple of times I went to Viqueque, there were murmurings in the crowd that I knew were about me: the pilotu (pilot) feto (woman). I asked Aldo what they were saying (since I had to take him or Ameu along for the first 10 medevacs) and he replied, 'They said they would be too scared to fly with the lady pilot!'

However, over time, they must have figured out that the pilotu feto couldn't be too bad, because she and the aeroplane kept coming back. After a month or so people started approaching me to have their photo taken with me - mostly women, but often men as well. By the time I left this was a very regular occurrence!

One of many photos taken with trainee nurses at Baucau

In my previous career as a research physicist, I was aware that I was operating in a male-dominated environment - and in aviation, it is even more so. Consider that among physics PhD holders the female representation is around 20%, while amongst commercial pilots it is around 6%. If in our western thinking 'scientist' and 'pilot' are considered as male occupations, how much more so in a country like Timor-Leste! I hope that me just being there and interacting with people, could be an inspiration for young women, and for parents of girls, that being a girl needn't be a limitation to a person's dreams and aspirations.

4. Exploring

I am especially grateful that I was able to go for bike rides with Rob and Catharina almost every weekend. This provided exercise, friendship, and many opportunities to learn more about the people and places in and around Dili, and how the events of the last 20 years had affected people and shaped the nation. We had a couple of trips to Liquica and Maubara, a couple to Gleno, some shorter rides to Dare, a bike race involving the Hera loop.

Then there was the overnight bike trip to Letefoho, which although it was so hard I don't know that I'd do it again, I was very glad to have done.

Last bike ride before leaving Dili - flying the flag on Proclamation of Independence Day

Our long weekend trip to Mt Ramelau was fantastic. Another highlight was my road trip to Suai with Aldo.

The Lowlights

1. Daily life issues

Traffic, house problems, water pump issues... Some days I was able to deal with these ok. Other days I was not. This was one of those times when being single is really hard, because there's nobody else in the house to call on for help or comfort. But I came to realise that when it comes to these kinds of issues, there are always multiple ways to solve a problem.

2. Isolation

This was my first experience living in a country (as opposed to visiting) where English was not the primary language. In Timor-Leste, the official languages are Portuguese and Tetun. In addition, many people speak Bahasa (Indonesian), and there are numerous local languages and dialects. Estimates of how many people speak English ranges from 5-20% of the population. Since my relief stint was only 6 months and I needed to get up to speed on flying the aircraft in and out of all the routes and airstrips as soon as possible, there was no time available for attending language classes that would normally happen for a new staff member arriving in a programme. As a result, even though I was living in Dili (population 220,000), my inability to communicate meant that my social circle was limited to my workmates and Rob and Catharina. I was thankful that I could keep in touch with friends and family back in NZ - even if it meant that I had to go for a short drive to get a decent mobile signal.

Another aspect that made things hard was only having a skeleton crew in country - two relief pilots, with limited external support from the wider MAF management. At times it felt like we were invisible to them. But I remember one flight where I was lamenting to God about this, and He told me, 'Don't worry; I know where you are.'

Both of these aspects have shown me that being a single person in a small MAF programme would probably be too hard for me, which is useful when it comes time to apply for future positions.

3. Uncertainty

2020 has been a difficult year for everyone, with the chronic uncertainty caused by Covid affecting all of us. My contract amendment letter had said that I would spend 'up to six months' in Timor-Leste, yet towards the end of that time there was a lot of uncertainty as to when other pilots could arrive, which naturally affected when we could leave. This was very frustrating as it was something that could - and should - have been arranged much earlier. In the end our departure was a hurried affair. I have come to realise and accept that we had little choice under the circumstances. But it did leave a bitter taste on my first MAF programme placement.

A happy Christmas

On Christmas day we were treated to a special breakfast for our last meal in quarantine.

Shortly afterwards, we were escorted out of the facility and given our freedom (along with a certificate).

Andy and I were picked up by a friend of pastor Lindsay's sister who lives in Darwin. We were able to join in their church service and then joined her for a lunch which she was hosting for a number of people who didn't have family nearby.

The following morning we flew back to Cairns (after a 2.5 hr delay departing Darwin due to maintenance issues with the aircraft). I'm now house-sitting for a month or so. It's good to be back!

Quarantine, days 10-12

Day 10: Rain

Being in the tropics in the wet season means we are getting rain - and sometimes lots of it.

Sometimes with the rain there is thunder too, which means that any time it rains the pool sessions are cancelled - as happened today, much to my disappointment.

A good day to stay inside and get some more work done on lesson plan preparation.

Day 11: More rain

Pretty much the same story as yesterday, except there wasn't a pool session scheduled to be cancelled. I also had my second Covid test and played the piano for a bit. The mosquitoes are loving the wet, and I'm not loving being eaten by them, so I spent as little time outside as possible.

Day 12: Laundry

In addition to a surprise pool session (I found out at breakfast time that it was on) I also did some laundry today... The machine I chose did not do a very good job on its spin cycle, so the clothes were still quite wet when I took them out and they took a long time to dry. But I am thankful for the relative freedom to do my own laundry, using a machine...

Quarantine, days 7-9

Day 7: Cricket

A little bit of google searching enabled me to find online radio coverage of the first Black Caps T20 match against Pakistan. Ah, the sound of summer!

Online cricket coverage - Magic Talk and Cricinfo

Day 8: Pool

After waiting a whole week (yes folks, that means I'm past the halfway point!) everyone on my flight from Dili who has ended up at Howard Springs was allocated a pool session at 9:30 am. I'm not a keen swimmer but since the opportunity was there for a supervised change of scenery, I took it. As it turned out I was the only one who turned up, so I had the entire pool (complete with a lifeguard, and two nurses) to myself for 45 minutes. We have another session scheduled on day 10.

Private pool session

Day 9: Puppet

One of my 'one-off' tasks to do during quarantine was to provide a kids' talk for the Christmas services at Tablelands Presbyterian. I decided to make my puppet Gruffy sing a Christmas song, with the green tais I was given as a backdrop. It required a bit of creativity but I was really happy with the end result.

Getting creative for a Christmas service kids' talk

Quarantine, days 4-6

Day 4: Cards

I spent most of the day continuing to work on my feedback document, which I was able to finish and send off by the afternoon. In the evening Rob and Catharina invited us over to their section to play cards. This was made possible by playing on our phones using a 'private table' on a games site. It was their last night in quarantine, which gives us hope that it does actually come to an end eventually!

Playing cards with appropriate physical distancing

Day 5: Rhythm

Another half-day of work on lesson plans for the FTC, and a fair bit of time playing my piano. I am thankful that I was allowed to bring it to my room, since other 'large recreational equipment' such as bikes are kept in storage until you leave. I guess a piano is less of a safety issue. Anyway, it's good to be able to retreat to my happy space.

Piano in quarantine

Day 6: Moving

We each received a phone call yesterday saying that we would all be moved to new rooms today 'due to maintenance'. It was originally scheduled for 9:45 but then was shifted to 2:00. This mucked up my day a little bit as I had arranged a couple of video calls, but eventually the time came for us to be escorted to our new homes.

My new room is a mirror image of the previous one, although instead of the cabinetry being a calming royal blue, it is vibrant orange. Hopefully it doesn't keep me awake!

Moving day

Quarantine, days 0-3

Day 0: Arrival

We arrived at Howard Springs at about 7 pm. After everyone had been processed (including filling out forms and having our temperatures taken) we were escorted to our rooms and given dinner. I decided to only unpack what I needed to for now, to give me something to do the next day.

View of Darwin

Day 1: Settling in

Breakfast arrived on schedule at 8:00, followed by another temperature check. I unpacked the things I was anticipating using during quarantine and re-packed the rest. The room isn't overly large, and the amount of stuff I have is sufficient for a 6-month stay, including my keyboard. Thankfully I was allowed to bring it to the room.

Rob and Catharina had flown out from Dili on 2 Dec, so they were on day 10 of their quarantine. We had a good time catching up, and somehow they managed to rope us into a pairs running challenge, making the most of the exercise opportunities that are on offer. They had measured out a loop that was 330 m, which we would each run with our partner in a relay for 16 laps (to make 5 km each).

Runners at the ready

Day 2: Sunday for rest

I had made a plan for how I would spend my quarantine time, in the light of the annual leave I had applied for. Days 1 & 2 were Saturday and Sunday, so I would use those as a break before taking a leisurely approach to working Mon-Fri. I started out with some puzzles, playing two-pack solitaire, and logging in to Tablelands Presbyterian's live stream service as usual. Two more weeks and I will be back in person!

We were also all subject to the first of two Covid tests (the second will be conducted on day 10 or 11). Although it was uncomfortable, it was over quickly and was not as bad as the one I had in Mareeba prior to going to Timor.

In the evening I was able to carry my keyboard to a picnic area where there was an outdoor power outlet, and we had an impromptu carol singing session!

Covid test...

Day 3: Working

I managed to make quite a bit of progress on some work-related things today, which I was mildly surprised about. The first was preparing some lesson plans for the flight radio sessions that are part of the RPL course. The second was putting together my feedback about my time in Timor-Leste (which also included about 4 hours of video calls with various people)...

In the evening I joined Rob and Catharina for their daily exercise - just walking this time.

Bedroom by night, office by day

To be continued...

Leaving Dili

Leaving Dili turned out to be easier said than done. I had been booked on a flight departing 16 Dec, but late on Friday 4th received a message from the travel co-ordinator saying that it had been cancelled and my booking moved to the 9th. Andy had originally been booked on the 23rd, but they were saying it was possible that flight might be cancelled too. Over the weekend we talked with management and got approval to move both of our flights to the 9th.

On the morning of Wednesday 9th we both packed up all of our stuff and brought it to work. When we walked across to the terminal to check in, we were told that we had been given the all-clear from Australian immigration to board the plane, except that the flight hadn't been approved by the Minister of Transport. Long story short it ended up being cancelled, with the possibility that it might be rescheduled the following day. (It had been confirmed that there were no other flights to Darwin scheduled before the end of the year.)

So we took all of our stuff back home, unpacked a minimal amount for the night, and came back the following day. In anticipation that the flight might not happen at all we started brainstorming alternative solutions, including flying ourselves out. In the late afternoon we were told that they were working on arranging the flight for the following day. In the evening, after I got home, a message came through saying it had been confirmed. Then another message saying it had been cancelled again.

On Friday I didn't bother wearing my uniform to work, or packing my bag. I contemplated unpacking it, but figured it would still be there when I got home, and would give me something to do later. We continued assessing alternatives in order to present a case to management, when at 12:00 we got a phone call saying the flight was on with check-in at 1:30 pm. Cue jumping in the vehicles and racing home (not easy in Dili traffic), getting changed and packing, racing back to the airport (still not easy in traffic), and presenting ourselves at the airport. This time confirmation from Australian immigration took a lot longer, but finally we were cleared to leave. We said goodbye (again) to Ameu, Imelda and Aldo and boarded the plane.

The fallout from our rapid departure is still continuing as I write this, but we had little choice due to lack of flight options, our visas expiring on 31/12, and me having commitments in January meaning that I needed to be out of quarantine by a particular date. On one hand it feels like we left a lot of unfinished business behind; but on the other we know that we gave our best and gave our all, to the point of exhaustion.

We are now in Darwin for two weeks of mandatory quarantine at the Howard Springs facility. I'm actually looking forward to it - two weeks to unwind, mentally and emotionally unpack the good and the bad, rest, and start preparing for returning to Mareeba and my duties at the Flight Training Centre.

Farewell/Christmas dinner, wearing the tais given
to us by Aldo and Ameu. Obrigada maun!

Thank you to the MAF Timorese staff

A special post to introduce and thank each of our Timorese staff for all their help during my time in Timor.

Ameu Falo

Ameu is our ground handler. He is always ready to push the aircraft around, clean them when they are dirty (as is often the case after a trip to Baucau or Los Palos), refuel them when they are thirsty. He also keeps the cars clean and the grass around the hangar mowed, often working in the hot sun. Most importantly he goes about it all with a smile. He was very patient with me in trying to teach me a few phrases in Tetun and didn't laugh when I got it wrong.

Imelda Pereira

Imelda is our office administrator. When I would come back from a medevac flight, by the time I had refilled my water bottle and sat down, she would have already taken the passenger manifest and created an invoice. She has a beautiful smile and a wonderful sense of humour. She also took great delight in helping me spend my money buying gifts for my supporters back home.

Aldo Falo

Aldo's official title is operations assistant, but he is much, much more than that. When he went on holiday for a week in August, the programme nearly stopped. He came back and laughed when we told him he wasn't allowed to go on holiday again! In addition to helping Ameu with the aircraft manoeuvring and refuelling, Aldo also handles pretty much all our interactions with government officials - of which there are a lot. He is the go-to-guy of MAF Timor-Leste.

His life story is truly inspiring. A week or so before I left, I recorded an interview with him. Here is his story:

I was born in July 1986 in Oecusse, in a village called Banafi. I started primary school there, in Banafi, and after the referendum in 1999 we went to West Timor, Indonesia. In 2000 we came back, and I continued my schooling in Banafi.

In my family there are six of us, one sister and five brothers. Now my eldest brother is married, he has two daughters. My sister has a lot of children, 3 boys and 2 girls, she has five. She is the third, I am the second, my brother is the first. Only three of us are married: my brother and me and my sister and the others are not married yet.

I graduated primary school in 2003 and my family would not allow me to continue my study because they didn’t have money to pay my school fees. I had my certificate of birth and another certificate of the primary school, but my mother stole it and hid it under the mattress. My parents wanted me to come and work in the rice field at the town. I said ok, you go first. Then I kept looking for my documents in the house. I found them under the mattress and I took them - only two certificates, the certificate of birth and the certificate of primary school. I put them together with the rice and carried it, followed them down to the rice field at the town. Then I took out the certificates, put them in the cupboard under my brother’s clothes.

After that one teacher at the neighbourhood with my brothers asked me, "Aldo, are you continuing your study?" I could not answer, because of my feelings, I just cried. He said, "Why are you crying?" After maybe one hour I answered and said, "My family will not allow me to continue my studies, because they don’t have the money to pay my school fees." He said, "Ok, can I help you? Maybe tomorrow I can talk with your mother and father about that." I said, "Yeah, please, if you can talk with them and allow me to continue my study." That teacher’s name is Diego. So in the morning he said to them, "Aldo is saying he wants to continue his study, but he said you will not allow him to continue to study." Then my father and mother said, "There is no money to pay the school fee. Even for the food, it is difficult to have enough for all of them." He said, "Ok, Aldo can sell cakes and earn the money, he can pay for school by himself."

My father and my mother wanted me to help them on the farm with the animals. They just had one cow. But that morning when they went back to the village, I ran off from them. I went to the village and waited for them to leave so I could come back to the house. In the afternoon when I came back to the village, the teacher told me, "Your family has gone." At that time I started selling cakes, for one or two weeks, and the teacher’s wife gave me $15 to enrol in junior high school. So I kept selling cakes and paid back the $15. I said to her, "You gave me $15, it’s ok, I am selling for you." After that I continued selling and when people gave me 50c, $1, something like that, I didn’t spend that money, I just put it aside. For 3 years I was in junior high school and my family only gave me $5 in three years. They didn't even give me food. I got food from the teacher, or I would go to my brother.

After I finished that I went back to my family and said to them, "Can I continue my study in senior high school?" But they would not change their minds. They said, "No, you must stop. I don’t want you to continue because now you have a lot of brothers, so you need to help me on the farm, you can work." I decided to run and come back to the town. When my father went to the animals and my mother was inside the house, I took my bag and left, and didn't tell them. I walked from the mountain to the town; I had no money to pay for transport so I just walked. After that, I went to the school. The government senior high school is free, but the first registration is $70. I had collected the money before, when I was selling cakes, selling fish. I got $20 together, just by saving the money

With the money that I got from selling cakes and selling fish, and other money, I took two containers for the money. I made one box and put it inside the ground. After that I put some plastic inside, put the concrete on top and just made a small hole so the coins could go in. Then every morning I would go and sell cakes, and I would get 50 cents, and put it in there. I had two boxes for the money, one inside the ground and one that I put together with my clothes.

So I graduated senior high school, and nobody knew that I had the money, and I went back to my family. Now I had finished in the school, even though they not allow me to go, but I found a way. I found the solution. And I am finished in the school now, so I asked them how I could continue in the university. They said, "That is a lot of money to pay the school fee, how I can get that money to pay the school fee?" I said, "Ok, don’t worry about that, I will go back." I came back to the town and I could not find a way to earn the school fee for the university, because just one semester is a lot of money. So I decided to go to SOLS for 9 months. My money in the ground and under my clothes, I never took it, just kept it there. When I was in SOLS I was working, and going to school, cooking for the teachers. They looked at me and said I am intelligent and you cannot pay the course fee, but you are free in this course. I said thank you for that. After 9 months I decided to come to Dili.

I moved here in February 2010, and I got opportunity to work with the UN in 2011, washing the plane. That was a good opportunity - in one month I got $280 for work. So I was happy, because I could support my school fee and pay for everything. After the UN left, Jonathan [at MAF] called me and said, "Can you come work with us, just come and wash the plane three times a week?" I said, I am happy with that. So for doing that Jonathan gave me a salary, $50 a month. But I am happy because that supported me for transportation, and with the money I can get rice, something like that. In 2015 I graduated university and since then I have been working full time for Mission Aviation Fellowship until now.

I refused to let my life be the same as my father, just going to the farm. My father tried to stop me but I don’t want my life to be the same as my father, I needed to find a way.

My father has only one or two cows. He would not sell them, he just keeps them. It was difficult for the food - if we finished the food or the rice or the corn, we would go to the jungle to look for leaves or fruit to pluck and support our family, because tonight we have nothing to eat, only the leaves or the fruit. When I finished my schooling, I told my mother, although our family is poor, I finished my study and I got a small job. I have a little bit of money, and I don’t want my brothers becoming farmers. I want to send all of them to school, so we can change our lives. My father’s life is a farmer but I don’t want my brothers doing the same thing, just being a farmer like my father.

I am happy with my life, even though I faced a lot of problems, I found the solution.

Now I am an operations assistant with Mission Aviation Fellowship. I can do everything in the office, like the administration or the paperwork and refuelling the plane. In the future I would like to do engineering training, so that I can understand a little bit about how the engine works and help the engineers when they come to fix the plane.

MAF has educated my life, educated us to rescue people, to help people, to follow Jesus Christ’s instructions to help people, especially to help others.

Thank you Aldo!

Last flight in Timor-Leste

My time in Timor-Leste has drawn to a close. The week that Andy and I were due to fly out (more on that later), the engineers were in the final stages of completing their work on our damaged aeroplane. Before it could be signed off, it needed to be taken for a 'return to service' flight.

Engineer John was going to come with me, to record key numbers from the engine monitors while I put the aircraft through its paces. The flight needed to be at least two hours long to allow the temperatures to fully stabilise. I asked him if there was anywhere that he would like to go, and since he said he had never been to the south coast, I mapped out a quick route from Dili to Suai to Viqueque to Dili. I was keen to fly through the valley from Ainaro to Same - I'd driven through there with Aldo on the Suai fuel swap trip, and knew it would be spectacular from the air.

Here are some pics:

Looking south through the Bobonaro gap, 7500 ft

View from 12,000 ft (testing the turbo response)

Impressive gorges in the Ainaro valley

Enjoying the flight

Rainy days and Mondays

 

Typical towering cumulus cloud with rain shower

 

Last Monday was a particularly busy day in terms of medevacs - 5.5 hours in total, 7 patients, spread across four flights (Same, Los Palos, Oecusse and Atauro).

The flights to Same, Oecusse and Atauro were all pretty standard, but the one to Los Palos is worth sharing in a bit more detail. Feel free to make yourself a cuppa, and join me for the ride...


I departed from Dili for the Los Palos medevac at about 11:00. The weather forecast for Dili was predicting thunderstorms for the afternoon, but when I took off it was fine - blue sky above, 32 degrees, a little bit of cloud starting to form over the ranges. The flight time to Los Palos is slightly under an hour. As I got closer to my destination, there were more and more clouds and rain showers that I had to fly around. One particularly large shower was sitting right on the direct track, about 5 nautical miles away from the airstrip. I flew around it towards the south, where I could see the weather was clearer, and the airstrip came into view. It didn’t appear to be wet, although there was another rain shower on the other side. I checked out the windsock and judged that I could fly a circuit between the two showers and land towards the south - which I did without any trouble.

After I landed I taxied back to the parking area at the northern end of the strip, where the ambulance was already waiting. As I shut down the engine I noticed a few spits of rain on the windscreen - nothing to worry about. The nurse who would be accompanying the patients came over to the aircraft and told me there were three patients to be flown to Dili - two women and a baby. The baby was being held by a man and there was another woman who was a family member accompanying one of the women, so I knew that every seat would be occupied.

As I finished recording the passengers’ weights, the wind suddenly picked up and the rain started bucketing down. When I say down, I should say, it was coming at us sideways. The man holding the baby was already inside the plane; everyone else jumped in the back. I was distracted with the paperwork and didn’t immediately realise quite how heavy the rain was. After about 4 or 5 seconds I was completely soaked, as was my paperwork. Normally the wings of the aeroplane do quite a good job of providing shelter, but not when the rain comes in sideways. I gave up trying to find anywhere outside the plane to keep from getting soaked, and jumped into the back with all of my passengers. I was still getting wet - that ‘sideways rain’ thing again - so I slid the cabin door shut and finally exhaled.

I looked around me at five perturbed Timorese faces. Rain like this was not unusual for them - it was the monsoon season, after all - but being in an aeroplane was, especially with the pilot sitting next to them in the main cabin. I looked down at my clothes, which were dripping water onto the floor. I could feel the water squelching around inside my boots. I checked the paperwork - the boxes I would need to fill out on the daily flight record were still dry, and although the passenger loading manifest I had been writing on was completely wet, the blank ones underneath were dry enough to use. I looked up at the nurse, and told her in English that we would need to wait for the rain to stop before we could take off. She passed the message on to the others. I knew that the downpour wouldn’t last for long, and even in the confines of the cabin there were still some things I could do, so that when we did get a break in the weather, we could depart straight away. The first thing was arranging the seating, which was relatively easy. The man with the baby in row 2 could stay there. I directed the woman family member to climb into the front passenger seat and helped her put the seatbelt on. I retrieved an infant seatbelt from the seat pocket of the rear seat and helped the man to secure the baby. Then I told the nurse that one of the two patients would need to lie on the stretcher (which she and I were currently crouching on), with herself and the other patient sitting in the two remaining seats. She indicated to the two women where they would be moving to. It would require a bit of seat-juggling after I got out of the plane, but it was straightforward enough.

Now that I knew who was sitting where, I could complete the manifest and do the weight and balance calculations. Timorese people are generally pretty slight, with an average weight of around 50 kg, so our total weight was well within the aircraft limitations, and with every seat full the centre of gravity was just aft of the centre of the range. I filled out a new (dry) manifest sheet, signed it, and gave everyone a reassuring smile. Don’t worry folks, everything’s under control. Even though I’ve never been in this situation before. 

I pulled out my phone and sent a message to base saying I would be delayed. A couple of minutes later, the sound of the rain on the roof stopped. I looked outside. Down the strip, in the direction we would be taking off, it was still raining. Visibility was hopeless. We weren’t going anywhere just yet. I looked to the left, where a small group of people were still standing next to the ambulance, completely drenched, waiting to farewell the aeroplane. The rain started again, but thankfully the wind had stopped. I gave a sympathetic smile and told them we still had to wait for the rain to pass. I gestured for them to stand underneath the wing, which they gratefully accepted. Then I jumped back inside and closed the door again.

Finally the rain stopped and the weather along the strip cleared. The nurse and I jumped into action, finding some clothes and sheets amongst the patients’ belongings which we used to mop up as much of the water on the stretcher as we could. We laid one patient down and got the other into her seat. I checked everyone’s seatbelts, closed the doors and did the usual final walkaround to check everything was ok with the critical parts of the aeroplane (propeller, wings, etc.) and went through my take-off brief for a short field take-off. Wind - now light, but favouring this runway. Length - 645 m of ground roll and then open fields. Altitude - 1300 ft. Surface - gravel and grass, now with puddles. Slope - nil. Obstructions - none significant. With the airstrip being gravel, I decided that I would use a rolling start to avoid picking up any stones that might damage the propeller. I had parked the aeroplane over a patch of grass, so after starting the engine I did my run-up checks there. After that I taxied to the end of the runway and lined up on the centreline, which for this airstrip is often used as a road by the locals. Boy, there were a lot of puddles. Safe abort point - the point after which if I was to abort the take-off I would not have sufficient margin to stop safely - the windsock, half-way down. With my feet off the brakes, I smoothly opened the throttle, the engine began its familiar roar, and the aeroplane started to accelerate. Rolling over the gravel and dirt patches was fine, but every time the tyres hit a puddle the drag was very noticeable. As I got close to the windsock I glanced at the airspeed indicator - low 40s. I wasn’t convinced that we would get airborne in the distance remaining, so I instantly closed the throttle, and between me applying brakes and the aircraft hitting more puddles, we soon came to a stop. I knew the passengers would probably not be relishing the thought of me trying again, but I had another trick up my sleeve - a soft field take-off. This technique uses less ground roll but more length getting to obstacle clearance height (50 ft above the ground). Since all that lay beyond the usable part of the airstrip was open fields, I wasn’t concerned. My issue was getting airborne. In simple terms, the soft field take-off technique involves coaxing the aircraft off the ground as soon as possible. Then you are no longer affected by the drag of the wheels on the ground (or in my case, the puddles). Although the airspeed is very low at this point, thanks to something called ‘ground effect’, the aeroplane can fly. Ground effect essentially provides you with extra lift (or if you want to be precise, a reduction in induced drag), but as the name suggests, it’s only significant when you are close to the ground. So for a soft field take-off, you apply power and start the take-off roll, periodically applying back pressure on the control column to see if the aeroplane has enough speed to get airborne. When it does, you allow it to just come off the ground, then fly level with the ground to build up enough airspeed to then climb away as normal.

I turned the aeroplane around and started taxiing back to my starting point. Since the central part of the airstrip - the part that’s used as a road - was full of puddles (and also a few decent sized rocks), I used the grassy bit just to the side of it. As I was talking myself through the soft field take-off procedure, I realised that the grass was short and although it was wet, the ground was fairly firm underneath. Since it was still well within the airstrip boundary, I quickly made the decision, rather than using the true centreline with its many puddles, to use the grass on the side, as it should have a lot less drag. I also decided to start opening the throttle during my taxiing turn as a way to save a few more metres. 

Reaching the end of the airstrip and ignoring what my passengers must have been fearing, I turned the aircraft around, opened the throttle, aimed down the grass I had just taxiied over and started trying to coax the aeroplane into the air. Without the puddles slowing us down, the aircraft left the ground about halfway to the windsock. As I felt the wheels lose contact with the ground I lowered the nose and flew along, just a few inches off the ground. Reaching the normal climb speed I raised the nose and we climbed away.

The rain shower that had drenched us earlier had moved to the northwest, so I skirted around it and flew towards the sunlit coast. From that point the flight back to Dili was uneventful, but it did feel very strange being warmed by the sun streaming in through the aircraft windows, looking down at the beautiful coral reefs that encircle the island, sitting there in my sopping wet uniform. When I got out of the cockpit after landing at Dili, the base staff took one look at me and laughed. While they were helping the passengers disembark, I managed to find a spare uniform shirt and trousers that were both a couple of sizes too big, got changed and jumped back in for the next medevac flight. All in a day’s work...