27/4/12 - Light outside a hotel room

 

Right, after 30 days living in a hotel room with little else to do but watch a new wing of the hotel be build right outside my door, I finally get to swap the 7am alarm call of a circular saw or someone hammering nails into walls for the cooler climes down south where I have my own transport, can go wherever I wish and can drink water right out of the tap!

One of the transport lists with creative spelling of my name – back when we flew…	Cute display outside the “Jardin du wharf” in PG during one of my walks around town

So tomorrow is packup and departure day. I can’t deny I’m excited about getting home and being a bit more active; I feel like my muscles have atrophied over this month. Certainly the tan I established in Thailand is all gone and I’m starting to look like Gollum again.

After a brief but heavy shower in POG	This is a tar road, believe it or not
One of the main streets. Good drainage infrastructure but needs time to get rid of the water sometimes	I was dismayed that I couldn’t get to the shops across the water – full of sewage so not a shoes-off crossing option

I had taken these pics a week or so ago, keeping them for the next fascinating blog post which hasn’t come. I don’t think I’ve ever had this little news – everything centring around the hotel and the restaurant where I have had my meals. I ended up buying snacks from the supermarket just to not have to eat at the restaurant for every meal, since the menu gets extremely monotonous when its the only place at which I am allowed to eat on account.

The continuing construction outside my room. The big block closest to me is the lift apparently, as it will be 3 storeys.

17/4/12 - A day out!!

 

As many of you know, I have been sitting in a hotel room in Port Gentil for the last 15 days without a minute’s flying. Some of you have expressed sympathy for my predicament, and others have quite rightly pointed out that I’m feeling sorry for myself and must just grow a pair and suck it up. Thanks

The brief (and I have to keep it brief) story is that the local government has decided to no longer give temporary operating licences out to foreign operators to fly in Gabon. Instead, a company must register locally. To register locally, a company must own at least one locally registered aircraft. And naturally a ton of money is needed to pay for all the paperwork etc etc. Everything has been done on our side, we have assured the Gabonese CAA that we will re-register the helicopter in Gabon AND purchase an aircraft which will also be registered in Gabon. But still we sit waiting for the paperwork and operating licence to be signed off by them.

Other companies have actually bought smaller Gabonese registered planes, parked them on the apron and forgotten about them, just to get their operating licences. There is a rumour going round that a competing company has paid off someone in the CAA to stall our application as they’re after our contract. But the end result is that I have been stuck in the hotel with little to do.

Communication towers outside my room. That tower was waving like mad the last big storm we had here	An average road around Port Gentil
Road in the more industrial area where all the oil companies are – would expect them to have awesome roads!	One of the main roads in PG
Not easy to see the corrugations and potholes – tar roads not much better in places	Typical taxi in Gabon. Blue stripe up bonnet, over roof, down boot. And falling apart

Since I have no car and this place is even more expensive than Dubai (!!!!) I haven’t gone anywhere further than I can safely walk – which is really down to the industrial waterfront at the end of my road. A nice enough walk, but the sparkle of excitement wanes after the fourth walk along the same route.

So it was with tremendous excitement that I managed to organise someone to drive me around a bit today to show me the end of the peninsula of land that Port Gentil sits on. Mostly open swampland (there is sooo much water – and apparently they’re having a dry rainy season), but a golf course hidden amongst some trees and just a lot of open beach.

A life on the ocean waves…	Roadsides are rubbish dumps – this one for vehicles – middle of nowhere
Beautiful beaches up the peninsula	Very old, hollow lighthouse

At the end of the peninsula is a Total oil refinery and a small dirt town, mostly of shacks and small houses. A very old, rusty and surely soon-to-collapse lighthouse sits on the beach nearby. We pulled over to walk down onto the sand to where a bunch of fishermen in a large wooden dugout were pulling in their nets. There was quite a lot of activity as they had caught fish and their women were sitting on the sand with the fish in large metal bowls being sold. The sand is very white, and very fine-grained and actually squeaks when you walk on it – similar to walking on snow but higher pitched. Apparently this is due to the grains being small, dry (wet sand is lubricated) and round, so the pressure from one’s feet squashes the grains against each other, causing them to squeak (as is also the story with snow).

Fishermen pulling the nets up onto their boat, hopeful for fish	Crowds gathered around the women selling the fish
Everything caught from tiny fish	To larger versions of the same
Selling from metal bowls	Bunching all the nets up after they’ve been pulled in

At another beach area on a point of land is an old hotel called Nenga Bembe which hasn’t been open for many years and is all run down. But what an awesome setting! The beach is literally RIGHT next to the hotel. The old swimming pool is still there, although half hanging off the edge of the embankment onto the beach, and filled with sludge and rubbish. I couldn’t easily see why it had closed. No fire damage or anything visible. Just thought it was in a great location.

Nenga Bembe Hotel – not looking so hot anymore	The beach right in front of the hotel (visible on the right)
Panorama from swimming pool to sea	Open air bandstand next to the old hotel. This is used regularly apparently

On the way back I took a few pics of the average street in Port Gentil. I tried to get a pic of the mammoth potholes in the roads, but couldn’t get a decent shot. The vast majority of vehicles in Gabon are SUVs or 4x4s, except for the taxis which are all very knackered, old and run-down sedans. But the roads are so bad and potholes so large that regularly the SUVs have to slow right down and creep forward through the minefield of holes. Makes for interesting driving!

A few video clips of driving. I particularly love the intersection at the top of our road where everyone turning left (remember they drive on the right side of the road) has to peel off to the RIGHT, then stop at a set of traffic lights in the middle of the intersection before crossing across to the left. The one clip shows us pulling to the right and stopping, and then I pan the camera to the left to show where we’re aiming to go. The second is travelling down the road to the hotel. On the right we pass the restaurant I eat at every night, and right after it an open-air 2nd hand car lot with a bright yellow Hummer that has been there since I first came to Gabon.

Pull to the right to turn to the left	Down my street to the hotel. Le Nautilus (restaurant I eat at) flashes past just before bright yellow Hummer

Finally I took a pic and video from l’Hirondelle Hotel showing where I’m staying and the building that’s going on 3m away from my room. They’re building 24 new rooms, so its soon to become a very large hotel!

Walking from my room towards the street, I show the front facade of the hotel	The construction going on every day from my room

I love the quality of scaffold! Very European health and safety, with handrail, danger tape and secure legs. A far cry from the scaffolding you see in SA!

2/3/12 Its a twister, y’all! Get your brother Daryl, and your other brother Daryl into the basement!

 

2 March, 2012

Who would have ever thought it possible?! Well, me for starters!

Today is my last day working in Gabon (for this tour and possibly forever). I have done pretty well this trip – they have kept me flying madly and after a quick tally I see I’ve flown 77 hours this month! Not too shabby for the kind of work I’m doing, considering that 100 hours is the legal maximum that a pilot may fly in a 30 day period.

Below are very few, random pics to finish the tour off. What is NOT represented, for which I shall forever tut, sigh and roll my eyes at myself, are the many turtle tracks I have flown over the last two days, all the way along the beach to Banio. From the air its so easy to see how they dragged themselves straight up the beach, dug a hole and laid their eggs (patch of disturbed sand) and then dragged themselves back down the sand and into the water. Their drag marks are very clear as their shells have two grooves along the length which leaves a track, and of course their arms and legs (flippers) form a clearly distinct set of grooves at right angles to the direction the body is moving in.

And yesterday when I saw about 50 separate tracks up and down the beach my nice camera was in the boot, and I didn’t use the crappy one on the company phone because I figured I’d keep the nice camera with me today to get a good pic. Today I not only forgot the nice camera in the boot again, but couldn’t get a pic of the tracks because it was too blurred and I was moving too fast. And flying a helicopter. Nothing makes the passengers grab their seats than when the pilot holds the cyclic in the wrong hand (less stable) and then starts leaning half out the window, focussing on a camera in his other hand while the chopper starts to roll and dive towards the beach! So sadly, you’ll just have to take my word for it. Plenty turtles, plenty tracks.

Thin, boggy lake of freshwater one sand dune away from the sea	You know you’re in a mining town when the cables are this size!

What I DO have a picture of is what I saw straight ahead of me as I was starting up in PG this morning. Just offshore, and reaching down out of  a cloud towards the water. Two of them actually formed one after the other. I think they’re called water spouts? But for the sake of the story they were Killer Tornados!!

Tornado! Run for your lives!	The next thing Dorothy saw was a scarecrow with no brain… in Gabon

Chinese New Year decorations in Ethekamba camp	Gabon’s traffic lights. Don’t think anyone takes any notice of them, though

The little plane below putted in and landed at PG one day, just after me. He left it parked right next to my chopper for the night, and I can only thank his lucky stars (on his behalf) that I had already landed, because my downwash would have blown him over that fence behind him! Cleverly he had tied the wings to two big paint tins filled with sand when I arrived in the morning, so his balsa wood plane was safe. And you’re not gonna believe me, but I swear it was piloted by two military personnel – in military flightsuits!! The Gabonese Airforce is alive and well! I wonder if I could have been arrested for photographing a military vehicle…?

Snapped some lizards that climbed this pillar in the camp’s quad to hide from the rain as it started…

Little baby elaplane – couldn’t see where the Hellfire missiles attached	Ubiquitous lizards

Small birds loving my rotorblades – and crapping on the windscreen!	Yet more showers to skirt

And lastly, I tried to impress my sister and make her jealous with the array of French food in the local supermarket. Apparently there is a chain of “Casino” supermarkets in France, and everything in the supermarket is imported from France – and its stocked like any Pick n Pay / Tescos.

Saucissons…	…et fromage!

Well, that’s it. I don’t foresee anything hysterical occurring on my trip back to Durban late on Saturday /early Sunday. I leave Libreville at midnight and arrive at 6am local time (5am for me) in JHB. Then 1Time has the pleasure of my patronage to Durban where I’ll spend one night and then OFF TO THAILAND on Monday evening!!!! I might be getting a little excited about it now but, whatever…

21/2/12 Every shithole has a friendly animal

 

21 February, 2012

I have finally arrived back in Onal after a gruelling 3 nights away and some frustrating flying. My earlier blogs liken Banio camp to the devil’s sweaty ass crack, so it was with anything but delight that I was informed I’d be flying up there one day, SPENDING THE NIGHT (I tried not to groan when William said that but I can’t guarantee he didn’t hear me) before returning the next. I would then spend two lovely nights in town, flying to Banio and back in one day (usually the way we do it) in between.

The night in Banio was uneventful, I was prepared, took laptop, iPad, book and cellphone with me to ensure I would always have something with me to make the time fly. It is such a mouldy, rank, rundown place with revolting toilets that I chose not to shower but rather to sleep in my sweaty clothes from that day and double-hit the deodorant in the morning. So a little more sticky but with freshly brushed teeth at least, I headed back to PG the following day and spent the night in the hotel.

Next morning I was due to fly back to Banio to change more crew. Now it was a bright, sunny day, the entire flight could be done along the coast (so even if the weather got really bad I could still happily fly along the beach and land anywhere if I really needed to), and I was intending to refuel, reload the new passengers and return just after lunch. Consequently I decided rather than lug a bag with all my stuff backwards and forwards, I’d leave everything in the hotel to be waiting for me when I got back that afternoon. I wouldn’t have time for any of it anyway as I’d be flying all the time.

Upon arriving in Banio I immediately began the refuelling with the help of the fire personnel. But this time something wasn’t right. We could hear the fuel running into the helicopter, the petrol pump was running along at top speed, but the fuel gauge wasn’t increasing on the dashboard. I really hoped the fuel gauge wasn’t faulty – you don’t want to be flying over dense jungle with no real idea of how much fuel you’re carrying. I kept telling the fire guys to check their fuel pipes, taps etc. because something was wrong. Long story short, they finally looked into the fuel bowser itself and it was bone dry! I didn’t have enough fuel to get back to PG. I wasn’t 100% certain that I even had enough to detour to Onal to pick up some more. And apparently they weren’t happy sending the fixed-wing to a runway on the way home and decanting some fuel for me.

Guess who got another night in Banio!!! The new bowser was apparently on a barge and would be there the next morning. Oh happy day. No fresh clothes, no toothbrush, no soap (not that I’d want to shower), no computer, no iPad, not even a book! And it was 12pm. I wanted to cry. If I wasn’t such a manly man I’m sure I would have!

To add to my misery the camp puppy was delighted to see me back again and proceeded to jump up at me, showering me with wet beach sand. Poor dog has one glazed over eye and some nether region infection that is very unsightly. But she is very sweet.

And there I sat. With over 24 hours to wait and without even being able to watch TV in English. Purgatory! As I sat feeling decidedly sorry for myself the Camp Boss came over to ask me if I’d like to come with them to the river. “Just to see it”. Sure, I’m not exactly busy and this would at least give me something to do.

The “dock” on the banks of the lake – if you look very carefully you can see the town across the water on the other side	The villagers fishing boats

We took a 15min drive the 5km down to the banks of the river, bolting along thick sand roads in a Toyota Land Cruiser. Being such an important person I got to sit up front so at least had a seat to cushion me as we bounced insanely over tree stumps, boulders and big sand ruts. The boat I quickly realised we’d actually gone to meet was late, so we drove back to a tiny nearby village (literally just a few huts) to wait for it. I took plenty pictures in the village because this is very typical of what I’ve seen along the river banks while flying from camp to camp.

The small village – that’s it!	Wooden houses and corrugated iron roofs

It was 6pm, starting to get dark, and the white boy’s skin was exposed. Anti-mozzie spray in PG. Malaria drawing in around me like a cold, evil fog. I started walking around the village. Around and around. If I don’t stand still long enough, the bastards can’t bite me! The village had a few chickens, two very cute little goats that kept climbing on top of each other when lying down to sleep, and someone’s little kid who took a long time to get used to all the strangers that just showed up in his playground. He settled down in the sand and started playing with a big nail and the cardboard tube in the centre of a toilet paper roll. Which was when I noticed he wasn’t wearing a nappy but was wearing a small pair of filthy underpants, and he’d very recently shat himself and it was all squeezing out the sides and getting coated with sand. When he wandered over to his mom, digging at his bum to try to show her what was wrong (she had her head buried in a cellphone and never looked at him) he was flinging little globules of sand turds with every step. So much of lovely!

This seems to be the campfire room – kitchen/dining room	Wooden homes and solar panels for lights – no normal electricity

Chilling and waiting for the pirogue – and the malaria	Two very cute little goats

Finally the boat arrived, but instead of picking the passengers up and heading back, the Camp Boss told me to get on it. As I followed him on I did think for a moment that if I was being kidnapped I was probably the most willing captive they’d ever had! We shot across the water of the lake to a small town across the way where the Camp Boss got me to follow him through the huts and buildings as it grew dark. We stopped at a small store where he bought some toothpaste and soap (which I later discovered was for me), before continuing deeper into the town, him pointing out different buildings along the way, until we ended up at a shebeen where he bought us each a beer.

They’re collected in the forest and look and taste like Hazelnuts	Camp Boss – waiting for the boat. Not sure what the pursed lips pose is for…

Such a decent guy who was obviously well aware of the fact that I wasn’t thrilled to be staying in Banio, not that I tried to make it obvious – they live there and I would hate to be rude and make them feel I can’t stand their crappy camp. After the beer, which I explained I couldn’t pay for as I had no money (again, sitting in my hotel room in PG) we headed back to boat in pitch dark, he called the boat “skipper” and we pelted back across the dam at full speed. I really have no idea how they know when we’ve reached the other side cos I never saw it until we started to slow down to land at the jetty!

Small town of Ndindi – cash store	And shebeen store

And that was that. Not quite as painful as it could have been, especially with nothing to keep me occupied. I had a massively long lie-in the next day, fuel arrived at midday and by 1pm we’d left for the flight back to PG.

Just relaxin, havin a Bud (or Regab in this case)	As a welcome back to Onal we finally had our swan pastries again!! Not nearly as good as the first ones.