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Posted By: Hal Brown

Date Posted: Sep 7, 2014

Description: On any particular day while we were cruising near Palawan, isolated storms might rise and fall. It was only disturbing when the storms gathered together.

Date Taken: Sep 7, 2014

Place Taken: Near Lagen Is., Palawan, PH

Owner: Dan Nickens

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Category: 551, Yacht Tending Philippines

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Dan Nickens - Sep 07,2014 Viewers | Reply


	Wet season in the Philippines runs from June to November. Even though we dodged the typhoon in Japan, there were some rainy afternoons to cruise through.		Attachments: Dark and Stormy Start

Dan Nickens - Sep 07,2014 Viewers | Reply


	When the weather moved in, it moved quickly. The rain usually came with low clouds to shroud the hilltops.		Attachments: Gloomy Days

Dan Nickens - Sep 07,2014 Viewers | Reply


	Though SuRi boasts a nice radar suitable for rain watching, it doesn’t work so well when the storms sneak up from behind a hill. The first notice I got of this storm was a sudden shift in the SuRi’s anchorage. We were sitting still in calm water until suddenly we weren’t. When wind hits the tall broadside of SuRi, it moves the boat like a leaf floundering in a torrential flood.<br /><br />Down in the galley the radio came alive within moments of the sudden movement. “All deck hands prepare to raise the anchor!” crackled on the speaker.<br /><br />That doesn’t include me, but I like to see the action. I went to the bridge.<br /><br />There was a thick tenseness there. “We’re dragging anchor,” the Captain told me between gritted teeth.<br /><br />“So just crank up the engines and raise the anchor,” I thought. Fortunately I’ve learned not to offer nautical suggestions to a captain with decades of big boat experience.<br /><br />It became clear that it wasn’t as easy as I thought. The SuRi was in a tight position, tied to shore and side on to the surging swell and storm winds. It was a carefully choreographed maneuver to avoid smashing into the shore while minimizing showing SuRi’s huge profile to the wind and swell, twisting aft into the gale.<br /><br />As the captain and crew were so engaged I closely watch the SeaRey. It was resolute in its place. The wind gusting to 40 would try to lift it up, only to have the line steadfastly hold it down. If the line had been longer, it might have flown like a kite.<br /><br />I relaxed as the SeaRey seemed to easily ride the swells, never moving or flying away. I didn’t relax when the SuRi was free and moving away from the SeaRey’s anchorage. The captain had decided to move the yacht into the lee of a neighboring island to ride out the storm. He issued orders to the crew to relocate all the toys.<br /><br />It dawned on me that he meant the SeaRey too. Well, I didn’t want to leave it parked where I couldn’t see it. So, I had to move it, right?<br /><br />The crew was too busy to fool with me until the SuRi was safely relocated. Then I got a ride back across the channel in a little inflatable boat. It was quite a ride too. Up and down in the pounding swell and driving rain. It was enough to convince me not to try and drive the SeaRey across. I could never turn it across the howling wind anyway.<br /><br />When I got settled in the cockpit, the inflatable freed me from the line that had held so well. Even with the engine running I was drifting back towards the reef. I held the seaplane in place with power while I considered my options.<br /><br />Crossing the channel on the water was not an option. Even if I could turn crosswind, the huge swells would quickly roll the SeaRey on its side. Just the thought of that wild wind catching the wing broadside as the downwind wing went down was enough to chill.<br /><br />Maybe I could maneuver to the beach. Sure, just let the wind blow me back down the beach, then a shallow angle should get me across the reef to sandy refuge.<br /><br />I let the airplane drift backwards, watching the water. Remembering how shallow the reef was, I was pretty sure the waves were uncovering the sharp razor coral. I almost convinced myself that I could surf in on the crest of swell until I saw I’d have to be perpendicular to the wave. That wouldn’t work in the cross wind.<br /><br />I could stay place and hold position with power. I have read of a PBY pilot that did just that for 18 hours during a typhoon on a Pacific atoll during World War II. I didn’t have that much patience.<br /><br />Fly! That was a way out. All I had to do was power up and launch through the massive swell, then fly around the island in thick rain to where SuRi was parked in nice, calm(er) water. In theory I’d be flying instantly in the gale of winds. My flight theory wasn’t looking so appealing as gusts burst across the wildly tossing water.<br /><br />It occurred to me that timing just might make for short launch. Sometimes the wind would turn the rain horizontal, breaking foam on top of the crested swell. With a forty knot wind the SeaRey should just rise up and fly.<br /><br />It took a spell to build up the courage or conviction to try it. It was the dimming of daylight that convinced me. It wasn’t that long until sunset. I did not want to spend the night trying to ride out the storm.<br /><br />Stalling as long as I dared, I closely watch the waves and rain. When there was a noticeable increase in rain intensity, I waited until I was in the trough of the swell then jammed the throttle forward.<br /><br />In the seconds it took for the turbo to kick in, the nose rose up out of the water. The airplane was absolutely tossed into the air, flying instantly!<br /><br />“Down! Down! Stay low!” I added “please” to my entreaties, just in case it might help. I wanted to stay low over the water to avoid the more severe turbulence and clouds I suspected were waiting up in the gray. I don’t know if the screaming helped, but maybe it helped focus my flying.<br /><br />The next trick was to see if I could find SuRi in the deep gray. There was no way I was going to go directly across the channel and end up in the turbulence sure to be waiting close to the lee side of the island. I had to go around the long way.<br /><br />The GPS reassuringly showed the island right where I remembered it. I couldn’t see it but the GPS did. I hoped it wasn’t having an off day.<br /><br />Slowly, clawing into the wind, I let us be blown closer to the next island. Finally a deeper shade of gray confirmed what the GPS said. The sheer rock wall was right off the starboard wind. Now all I had to do was inch around the cliffs to the backside.<br /><br />Getting closer to the cliff was marked by more turbulence. I had to move far enough away to avoid the ruffled wind as it was broken by the rock walls, but not so far as to lose sight of the island.<br /><br />When I turned the corner things started happening a lot faster. The wind rapidly accelerated our speed over the water. I reduced power to keep from being blasted onto the far shore.<br /><br />When I was well away from the tall island, I turned toward the white silhouette that I hoped was SuRi. As I approached it became clearer that it was our boat. The water it was sitting in was much nicer than what we had left. It was nice enough for a big boat. It wasn’t so nice for a little seaplane.<br /><br />Now what? The what showed up in the mostly flat water next to the island. Getting next to the island, however, meant getting caught up in the wind roiling over its near vertical rocks. There was a definite risk of aerial upset. Aerial upset or smashed on the waves: what a choice!<br /><br />I decided to take my chances with the flatter water. I figured as long as I stayed low over the waves I wouldn’t have far to fall. At my low groundspeed there wouldn’t be much forward momentum at impact anyway.<br /><br />It was as I had hoped. The turbulence wasn’t tragic. The waves rapidly smoothed out. All I had to do was decide in a quick moment how close I could get to the island and the flattest water without grinding into the reef or ending up in the trees on the beach.<br /><br />The low speed of the SeaRey into the wind made it all easily possible. The hull settled into the small wavelets just off the reef.<br /><br />Now all I had to do was kill the engine and sail backwards. That allowed me to angle towards the buoy the thoughtful crew had arranged for me.<br /><br />Tied to the buoy I checked the clock: it showed thirty minutes from leaving the inflatable to being tied up safely in the lee of the storm. Impossible! It felt like an hour and thirty minutes, or maybe ten times that. I was absolutely worn out.<br /><br />It wasn’t to be the end of my day. The storm left as quickly as it came. A sinking golden sun crept over the calming water. Sure enough, one of the guests decided a sunset flight would be just the thing.<br /><br />And it was. Gorgeous colors bouncing under the capping clouds on a quiet sea in velvet cool air were waiting. You can’t waste a flight opportunity like that!<br /><br />The flight ended in the dark twilight after an hour that seemed only a few minutes. Amazing the relativity of time: an eternity during storms and a flash during the calm afterwards.<br /><br />		Attachments: Tough Day at Sea

Eric Batterman - Sep 07,2014 Viewers | Reply


	Dan, Nice to know the searey is so strong and can handle conditions that are well beyond my capabilities. Felt like I was reading/watching Apollo 13. You need to publish. Thanks for the ride!

Frank A. Carr - Sep 08,2014 Viewers | Reply


	Unbelievable Dan, way far out. Your account belongs in the PA Ads for ruggedness, but probably not in the FAA Syllabus for LSA pilots. <p>How many bilge pumps aboard? Probably enough!<!-- >'"><br><font color=red size=6>' or > missing in user HTML. Please fix the HTML.</font> -->

Dan Nickens - Sep 07,2014 Viewers | Reply


	See that narrow channel just to the left of the long island? Doesn’t that look like great, well-protected water for SuRi to park and for the SeaRey to play?<br /><br />Right. That’s what I thought too.<br /><br />		Attachments: Far Ending

Dan Nickens - Sep 07,2014 Viewers | Reply


	Check out the little boat! If he can operate in the channel, it should be great for SeaReys.<br /><br />		Attachments: Small Craft Suitable

Dan Nickens - Sep 07,2014 Viewers | Reply


	The first clue that all wasn’t to be easy as it looked was the wind. It wasn’t bad on the water, but the air up higher was, well, disturbed. Lumpy. Bumpy. Sheery. Definitely unpleasant.<br /><br />It was not so bad that I couldn’t fly. It was bad enough, however, that I was the only one that should fly. I took the bad news back to the owner that he would have to wait for things to settle down.<br /><br />With no one ready to jump in and fly, I secured the SeaRey to its buoy and went down into the crew galley for a mid-morning snack. It was tea-time for the Brits onboard and their former colonists, a sizeable contingent among the crew.<br /><br />There we were having light refreshments and good conversation when it happened. There was a loud bang. The whole ship shuddered. Expletives starting flying and the deck hands jumped up, charging out of the galley. They were all gone by the time the captain called: “All deck crew to anchor stations!”<br /><br />Flying guys don’t have any chores onboard during an emergency. I didn’t know what was going on, but it couldn’t be good if everyone was running. I sauntered up on the aft deck to see if there was anything I could do to help.<br /><br />“No, mate. Just standby.”<br /><br />The breathless answer wasn’t very satisfying, so I went over to see what the SeaRey was doing. “Well, isn’t that strange.” It had turned 90 degrees on its moorings, now pointed straight down the channel. And, it was rocking on some pretty sharp, high frequency waves. It wasn’t swell, but it was rough water. Most disconcertingly, SuRi appeared to be backing up at pretty fair clip towards the stationary SeaRey.<br /><br />“Hey! We’re heading towards the SeaRey and the jet skis. Stop!”<br /><br />“There’s no stopping, mate! SuRi has been blown off its anchorage. We need to move the toys. Now!”<br /><br />No kidding! I jumped in the inflatable with several of the crew and we raced the short distance back to our buoys. The captain’s orders were given while we were enroute: “Prepare to move all the tenders immediately! We’re moving SuRi out to open water.”<br /><br />“What? Why?”<br /><br />“Mate, can’t you feel the wind? It’s blasting through the channel. We can’t maintain anchorage here. The SuRi is nothing but a big sail and the channel is narrow. We’ll be blown into one of the walls.”<br /><br />That’s bad. It wasn’t as bad as the realization that was setting in. The wind was lashing the little open inflatable. The waves in the channel were growing every second, higher and longer. I could see the little SeaRey trembling against its rode.<br /><br />I was let off and turned loose without any further explanation or plan. As soon as the line was released, the SeaRey began to cruise rapidly in reverse down the channel. I had plenty of time to start the engine, though. That slowed the backward charge and gave me time to think through the problem.<br /><br />Problem 1: the waves were now seriously tall and of just the right length to be most treacherous.<br />Problem 2: the wind was howling.<br />Problem 3: SuRi was moving to the open water of the South China Sea. If it was bad inside the protected channel, it would be atrocious out in the open.<br /><br />Well, the SuRi was leaving and I’d have to too. I looked around for some protected water. There really wasn’t much hope. There was a little beach that jutted out a bit. It offered a small wave break. That’s all I’d need to get off in the whipping wind. I worked my way over to take what little advantage it offered even though it put me dangerously close to the tall gray rock wall.<br /><br />It’s amazing how quickly the SeaRey jumps off the water in a high wind. It was up and out before I could think about it. That’s good, because I was focusing completely on keeping it upright in the rush of tumbling wind.<br /><br />It was a short flight out of the channel and into smoother air. I reversed course to see how SuRi doing. That sent me racing back into the channel. It was like being sucked into a giant funnel!<br /><br />Wait. A giant funnel? Or a giant venturi?<br /><br />Oh, yeah. The wind had shifted and turned to blow directly down the channel. As it was squeezed in by the rock walls it accelerated. Really accelerated.<br /><br />Physics! It’s not just about getting a good grade in school. It’s about staying alive in the real world.<br /><br />SuRi and all its attendant tenders managed to slip out of the giant physics experiment and into less windy circumstances on the outside. Out in the open sea, the long swell was crosswise to the wind. It was perfect for slowing to a fast walk into the wind and surfing the tops to a gentle alighting.<br /><br />There was no buoy for me. The change of plans was relayed over the marine radio. SuRi wouldn’t be staying. We’d be moving back to a quiet anchorage inside the protected waters of the Bacuit Bay. Did I want to load onboard or just meet back in the bay?<br /><br />Are you kidding me? It’d take SuRi hours to relocate. I had hours and hours of fuel. “I’ll fly and meet you there.”<br /><br />All’s swell that ends with me flying away.<br /><br />		Attachments: Disturbed Air

Dan Nickens - Sep 07,2014 Viewers | Reply


	You know it is going to be a challenging day when the Captain apologizes about his anchorage. “This is as close as I can get to shore. Perhaps you can operate in the small cove.”<br /><br />Yes, the small cove looked great. True, takeoff into the brisk wind would be into rapidly rising terrain. True, it was a small cove and the takeoff would have to start outside if there were passengers. True, too, that just outside the cove was some large ocean swell running perpendicular to the wind.<br /><br />“Let me check it out,” I replied. The SeaRey was launched into high swell (3 to 4 ft. seas) and a brisk wind. That wasn't much of a worry, though, because that beautiful cove sheltered by steep, lush green hills on three sides was a short taxi away.<br /><br /><br />Just as I expected water in the cove was nicely rippled. As I should have expected, turbulence rolling over the hills made for some sheer excitement. Nothing that was beyond a capable STOL plane. I flew off for a brief test flight and survey of local conditions before returning to SuRi for anchorage.<br /><br /><br />My tender crew apparently had developed an inflated opinion of acceptable SeaRey sea conditions. Instead of setting my buoy in the relatively placid waters of the cove, they dropped it out in the open rough.<br /><br /><br />Normally I would just call the bridge and have the captain direct them to a better location. Today, however, the radio malfunctioned. It wouldn’t power on. Never had that happen before. Not a big deal though.<br /><br />I had several choices. Landing in the quiet cove would be a gentle splash followed by a wait for someone to notice me floating around there. Or I could set down in the cove and taxi back into the rough seas, but with the wind I’d have to maintain power and the engine could over heat.<br /><br />Or, I could just take the quick way out and land in the swell.<br /><br />Throwing caution and prudence into wind and swell, I made my approach. The first clue that it might not have been a good idea was the irregularity of the swell as I closed on it. It was rolling in from open sea, only to be met by wind-pushed waves from 90 degrees. The seas were as confused as I was.<br /><br />It was too late to change the plan. I had developed buoy fixation. I was aiming for that buoy and I was going to hit it, come swell or high water.<br /><br />My touchdown was perfect. Nose slightly high, hull dragging the swell crests, then dropping off step rapidly with my buoy dead ahead. <br /><br />That’s when I relaxed.<br /><br />And that’s when a gust of wind smashed into my starboard wing, blowing it up. The port wing was driven into the swell that I had just fallen off of.<br /><br />The port float strut snapped at the plastic attachment point. The world starting tilting and water rushed towards the open cockpit. I just had enough time to slam the canopy shut.<br /><br />It looked like the wind was going to push us right on down. With the stick full right, I leaned over into the passenger seat and jammed the throttle forward.<br /><br />Slowly, slowly, with water thumping the prop, the SeaRey came back upright. I unbuckled and struggled into the passenger seat as the wing came free of the water. Now we were angling into the swell with power and taking a beating.<br /><br />There was nothing to do but keep the power as low as possible while smashing through the surf and holding the crippled wing up. Ahead, between the rocks, I saw a small beach. I hadn’t noticed it earlier, it almost being completely surrounded by jagged karst cliffs. A beautiful, safe repair place perfectly positioned for my taking!<br /><br />But the coral reef! Most of the beaches have a rim of coral protecting them. This one was no exception. I put the gear down in hopes of saving the hull. We surged over the razor sharp coral without touching, thanks to a high tide.<br /><br />The spectacle I created had gotten the attention of the crew. I was followed to the beach by an inflatable rescue craft. With the crew holding the SeaRey to the steep beach, I quickly replaced the plastic strut attachment and was back in business.<br /><br />There were plenty of lessons to be learned, but the learning had yet to sink in.<br /><br />Under my direction the crew relocated the buoy to the quiet water. I had just gotten secured when a call came over the tender’s radio: a guest wanted to fly.<br /><br />Not just any guest. This guest was a pilot that had been flying from the left seat. He was a good pilot, but he was used to bigger planes and nose wheels, and didn’t think much of the rudder. I released from the buoy and floated back out into the mouth of the cove to take him onboard.<br /><br />As I was drifting back I watched the wind, the waves, and the clouds rushing by. I thought about how they had had their way with me today. I imagined the guest, taking us off in the limited space of the cove, coming danger close to the sheer cliffs and swirling air.<br /><br />By the time the guest arrived at the SeaRey, my murky imagining had crystallized into decision. The guest would not be flying the airplane under these conditions. I offered him the right seat. He declined, saying that if conditions were that tricky, he had no desire to fly anyway.<br /><br />It was a good decision. Without the lesson I learned earlier, I would have let him fly. We would have encountered the wind shear, heavy low and slow. If he were not fast enough on the rudder, well, who knows.<br /><br />The swells were not through teaching me though. They had a few more hard knocks in store.<br /><br />The wind calmed in the late afternoon after the storms passed. The water in the little cove turned glassy or lightly rippled. There was some easy alightings to accompany the multiple sorties launched.<br /><br />As the sun set it was time to come aboard. SuRi still sat out in the open water, side on to the waves. She rolled easily on the swell.<br /><br />So did the SeaRey. The long wave length of 30’ or more made for easy rolling over the open ocean swales.<br /><br />When it was time to hook up the hoist, the crane operator lowered the hooks and I coasted up to them next to SuRi. Killing the engine I climbed out of the seat, onto the rail, and grabbed the hoist from the air. As I was attaching them, however, a large roller dropped us into a trough, then rapidly lifted the starboard wing up. SuRi was rolling towards us and the heavy metal crane hook smashed into the wing.<br /><br />It was horrible feeling watching it happen. There was nothing I could do but cringe.<br /><br />When we rolled back the other way there was a big rusty spot and wrinkles in the wing fabric. The massive hook had hit squarely between the wing ribs. The only thing I think of was getting out of the swell as quickly as I could.<br /><br />With the hooks fastened, I stepped into the inflatable dingy the helicopter pilot had brought over. His attention must have been diverted because he didn’t react to the next wave. The boat moved and I fell into it to keep from going into the water. I lay there sprawled out with my leg over the bow as the next swell dropped the little boat. With its engine engaged and no longer stopped by the SeaRey’s hull, the boat shot underneath.<br /><br />What happened next is a vivid recollection. A following wave lifted the boat. In my prone condition there was no way to avoid the rapidly descending hull. Or was the hull steady and the boat rapidly rising? It didn’t seem so, but it had to be. No matter, my leg was pushed violently into the hull, trapped there by the inflatable’s rigid hull.<br /><br />There were screams from the boat. The crane operator jerked the SeaRey off the water. The helicopter pilot engaged reverse and pulled us away when the wave released us.<br /><br />I looked at my bare leg and saw not a scratch. There were, however, deep imprints. The hull strakes were easily identifiable. There was no pain. No blood. Nothing broken. Just some new grooves. “Better than a tattoo,” I decided.<br /><br />The SeaRey and I both got safely back aboard. What looked like a terrible wound to her wing turned out just to be a dimple in the leading edge cuff. The helicopter mechanic reached in and pushed it out. Good as new.<br /><br />Other than the new hull pattern on my leg and a little soreness, I was good too. In fact, better than good. The loading debacle was such a dramatic show that it got rave reviews from the crew and guests. Sympathy from everyone! I retired to my cabin with ice on the new grooves in my leg when there was a knock on the door. It was a lovely stewardess bearing one of my favorite ice cream bars. Healing was instantaneous (or at least the pain was forgotten).<br /><br />As a result of the incident a quick Captain’s review was convened. It was agreed that crane safety needed to become a higher priority. The crew routinely sling boats weighing tons overhead and on deck. Maybe we had gotten a little lackadaisical about the process. Maybe the SeaRey’s swell encounter and renewed attention to safety may keep one of us from being crushed some day. That’s good learning.<br />		Attachments: Not Swell

Dan Nickens - Sep 07,2014 Viewers | Reply


	After my swell adventure I resolved to be less adventurous. That’s when the weather took a turn for the worse. Does anybody on the boat but me watch the weather? I thought mariners were supposed to be in tune with that kind of stuff.<br /> <br /><br />Not on SuRi.<br /> <br /><br />So, with their telling me that the marine forecast for Palawan was just for isolated storms, I launched with a guest under threatening skies while they relocated. When the clouds started bunching up, I called the captain and told him it was time to take the guest back aboard. He always accommodates the guests, so even though it slowed his cruise plan, he stopped just off a point to rescue the guest by tender.<br /> <br /><br /><br />The point made the waves reasonable enough for me to put down, but it was too shallow for SuRi to pick up the plane. The waves out in the open were just too tall. I was left to my own devices. 'We can pick you up in the protected water between the islands just to our south,' I was told.<br /> <br />		Attachments: Ghostly Point

Jack Peters - Oct 02,2014 Viewers | Reply


	Great stuff Dan keep it up, you have a bugga of a life, hope you ring Ann every night.

Dan Nickens - Sep 07,2014 Viewers | Reply


	'Just to the south' is a relative term when the crew paddling the boat are loafing along. The SuRi is an incredibly slow 12 knots at its fastest full steaming ahead. The storm that was closing on it was moving even faster. I was in the middle. I told the captain that I was going to land between the islands and weather the storm lashed to a palm tree.<br /><br /><br />My plan was thwarted by the tide and coral. The approaches to the best beaches were well protected by shallow corals. The beaches that were approachable all had native houses. It's not that I'm unsociable, but I hate to seek protection at the home of strangers.<br /><br />		Attachments: Gathering Storm

Dan Nickens - Sep 07,2014 Viewers | Reply


	My new plan was just to fly around the storms. The forecast was that they were isolated. Looking to the horizon south, however, there was a uniform low hanging layer of malevolent gray cloud. It only became a gray deluge in a relatively small band. Easily circumnavigated by SeaRey, right?<br /> <br /><br />Not in the tropics, I discovered! Those relative small bands sometimes gang up to encircle the rain-free air. Despite all my bopping and weaving, that's exactly what was happening.<br /><br />		Attachments: Closing Sky

Dan Nickens - Sep 07,2014 Viewers | Reply


	As I was swooping low trying to find a suitable beach refuge I came across a circle of ten or twelve young native children sitting in the sand. As I came by they all jumped up and started waving like I was Charles Lindbergh coming out of the dark sky to the crowd waiting at Le Bourget!<br /><br />What's a transient pilot to do? Deal with the dangerous weather or provide an impromptu air show? Safety of flight is important, but one has to give considerable weight to inspiring a future generation with an aerial demonstration, right?<br /><br /> <br />They did get their show. It only ended when I was chased away by an angry squall.<br /><br /> <br />I decided it was past time for some serious weather avoidance. I took the great circle route out into the open sea to get around the marauding cell(s).<br /><br /> <br />What a relief it was to find there was back side to the monster cell! What a shock it was to see that the next wall of approaching gray spread from horizon to horizon!<br /> <br /><br />It was a race. The tortoise and the hare all over again. The hare was the racing squall. The tortoise was the SuRi. I was the worried prize in between.<br /> <br />		Attachments: Airshow Audience

Dan Nickens - Sep 07,2014 Viewers | Reply


	As in the fable, the prize went to the slow but persistent SuRi. She stopped beside a sliver of protected water, picked up a wind-blasted and wave-soaked SeaRey, then plodded on south through the storms towards safe harbor in Puerto Princesa.<br /><br /><br />		Attachments: Wave Spatter

Kenneth Leonard - Sep 07,2014 Viewers | Reply


	Dan, this is fascinating reading. I hope you are carrying an EPIRB tied <br />to your life vest with the ships <br />phone as the contact number. I want to keep reading your new stories <br />for years. The owner has already made it clear the plane is a throw <br />away...you, my friend, are not.

Dan Nickens - Sep 07,2014 Viewers | Reply


	Roger that, Ken. Two EPIRBS (one on my strobe equipped PFD, one secured behind the passenger seat) registered to the ship's satellite phones, two Spare Air emergency egress tanks to escape the airplane from underwater, survival egress knife, one satellite phone in a dry bag, four point Hooker harnesses, and an emergency egress pack (with signal mirror and dye). Not that I think it would help much, but there is a 406 ELT hooked to GPS. The airplane is always automatically tracked at one to two minute intervals using 'Spidertracks' accessible to SuRi's captain via satellite Internet link (loss of the aircraft signal would trigger an alert). The ship has portable night vision goggles should a low vis search by helicopter be needed.<br /><br />Oh, and I shouldn't forget my iPhone in a 'life proof' case with appropriate local Sim card and marine charts.<br /><br />I may be crazy, but I'm not suicidal.

Daniel Paul Myers - Sep 07,2014 Viewers | Reply


	I have once...well, maybe a few times entered the cockpit <br />when I shouldn't have. I look back thinking to myself 'was <br />potentially damaging the plane or myself worth the risk?'. You <br />have more experience and better judgment than most, <br />including myself, Dan, but I must ask- Would the plane have <br />been okay sitting there in the wind and rain? Im sure that plane <br />is replaceable, but you arent, our fearless leader!

Dan Nickens - Sep 07,2014 Viewers | Reply


	Well asked, Ambassador Myers. My decision to move the airplane was influenced by my surprise seeing the SuRi moved by the wind. The SuRi's anchor is massive and it didn't hold. What chance would a little SeaRey anchor have? Maybe a lot more, but I couldn't be sure. And I couldn't see it at anchor from across the channel after SuRi's move. If I didn't move it there was a chance it would have had to make it through the night. Had there been a thunderstorm, there wouldn't have been any question of moving it.<!-- >'"><br><font color=red size=6>' or > missing in user HTML. Please fix the HTML.</font> -->

Dan Nickens - Sep 08,2014 Viewers | Reply


	Additional factors: (1) the airplane was fully insured as a tender to the yacht; (2) as soon to be revealed in the next installment of 'Fun in the Philippines', it was soon to be taken out of service for engine repair and general refurbishment. And, as it turns out the storm blew through leaving a beautiful twilight for safe flight. What do they say? Most accident investigations occur under beautiful clear skies. So, all things considered, moving the airplane was imprudent.

Daniel Paul Myers - Sep 08,2014 Viewers | Reply


	'liking' these comments.

Don Maxwell - Sep 07,2014 Viewers | Reply


	It may be reasonable to assess a hazard index for Dan by computing his word-to-photo ratio. The higher the ratio, the greater the hazard. Possibly. That's on the theory that the more stress he's under, the less time he has to use the camera.

Dan Nickens - Sep 08,2014 Viewers | Reply


	Taking pictures sometimes, rarely, becomes less of an obsession, Don.

Frank A. Carr - Sep 08,2014 Viewers | Reply


	Years ago, we were occasionally treated to a "Wild Dan Story", or more accurately, a Dan Wild Story, which was always preceded by a sign that a tale was coming. Now no signs are needed and the "tales" are not tales but they are more ferocious. So what I'm saying is merely repeating Daniel's comment above: "Im sure that plane is replaceable, but you arent, our fearless leader!"<!-- >'"><br><font color=red size=6>' or > missing in user HTML. Please fix the HTML.</font> -->

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