capt. mike
Elite Nomad
Posts: 8085
Registered: 11-26-2002
Location: Bat Cave
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Mood: Sling time!
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A winter trip to Baja for the Flying Sams
December “Flying Sams” trip
Its 3:30 a.m. and I can hardly sleep, having tossed and turned a good portion of the night in anticipation of the adventure ahead. In less than three
hours I’m supposed to take off into the cold, black December skies headed for Baja California Sur with a dentist, chiropractor and nurse practitioner
on board my Piper Comanche, intent on making it to the tiny Pacific fishing port of Adolfo Lopez Mateo by 10:30, where we’re scheduled to meet up with
six other plane loads of volunteer medical professionals and support staff/pilots committed to our common cause. “What the hell”, I say to myself.
“Might as well get up and check the weather. Need to leave the house anyway in just two hours.”
I put the coffee on and call the Prescott flight service station. What I hear is not encouraging as, according to the specialist working the briefing
line, the skies are laden with locally severe turbulence and a strong northeasterly flow of mid-level air due to a passing cold front. “Tomorrow looks
to be a much better ride”, the briefer offers. “No”, I respond. “We’ll give it a try 1st, we really need to get there today” I take silent comfort in
knowing that if it gets real bad we can always turn around. I hate cleaning up after airsick passengers.
Our organization, collectively made up of about 14 individual chapters in California and Arizona, is known as The Flying Samaritans, or in Spanish as
Samaritanos Voladeros. I suppose literally “The Flying Good-guys”. And Good guys (and gals) we strive to be as we parlay our common love and
interest for Mexico, Baja and her people into a regularly scheduled monthly charity, bringing much needed medical and dental care to various remote
villages on the peninsula and elsewhere, the people of which are hard pressed to obtain otherwise. Mexico you see offers free State sponsored medical
care, but not to those who do not “pay” (read taxes) into their socialized medical programs. As such, many of the chronically poor and indigent;
migrant farm laborers, independent fishermen, and others go through life without the opportunity of basic health care. And all because they simply
can’t afford to pay out from what little money they do manage to earn.
Enter the “Flying Sams” (and to be fair - there are other similarly like-minded humanitarian groups servicing Mexico from the U.S.) who take a Friday
off from their work, professions and family, wrap it into a long weekend once a month, and with a regularity a Swiss train engineer would be proud of
return to their adopted clinic sites month after month throughout the year tending to the communities’ health needs.
It’s now 6:00 a.m., dark and cold on the ramp, and all my eager passengers have arrived except one- the dentist-and we really need her this month. In
fact we were supposed to leave the day before, Friday-as is typical, but the pilot coordinator for the Phoenix chapter called a few days earlier and
asked if I’d fly Saturday instead of Friday as the dentist could only go on Saturday. This happens on occasion and makes for a long flying day. When
we have to go out on Saturdays its wheels up by 6:00 and sometimes earlier in order to clear in to Mexico at our chosen airport of entry, process all
papers and still fly the last leg in to Baja and make it to the village with reasonable time remaining in the day to see patients.
By 6:30 she hasn’t shown or called my cell phone, and now we have to decide whether or not to leave her behind. We’re troubled with the thought that
if not for her schedule problems we all would have gone to Baja yesterday and had a leisurely morning flight from Mulege where we overnight to the
one-day clinics held Saturdays. So, we call her hoping she’s just around the corner and that we’ll soon be off.
Bad news – a death in the family and she can’t go. She also misplaced my phone number or would have called sooner. It’s not her fault though. These
things can and do happen. Altruistic groups are not immune to Murphy’s Law.
We feel bad and are understanding, but its time to launch! We lift off into the waning hours of Phoenix darkness and head for Guaymas in the State of
Sonora two and a half flying hours to the south. A glorious eastern Arizona sunrise catches up with us an hour into our journey as we cross the border
over Nogales at 9500 feet.
In spite of the earlier warning for turbulence, we feel little of it and are gratified for the apparent 30 knot tailwind which has us on the ground
clearing Mexican customs 20 minutes ahead of schedule, making up for some of the wait leaving Phoenix. We get our visas and are warmly greeted by the
airport staff.
The paperwork and mandatory stops at the various functionaries in the terminal are tedious but routine. They know who we are and why we have come.
Their knowing smiles say “thanks Samaritanos” as they do what they can to expedite the processes, mindful themselves that their systems are slow and
woefully outdated. Soon computers will replace aging Olivetti typewriters, and rubber stamps will no longer be required to be placed on each received
document as we work the line from one smartly uniformed individual to the next.
We pay our fees (no, they don’t “comp” us) and prepare to refuel. A total of $120 enriches the local coffers to cover Mexican air space use taxes,
immigration visas, landing and flight planning fees. Aviation fuel is taken on, but only enough to achieve a safe reserve as the cost at nearly $4.00
per gallon is almost double what we pay in the States. Such is the cost to enter their country by private aircraft.
A safety briefing (use of the life raft if/when, God forbid, it’s ever needed) is followed by a short hop across 85 miles of open ocean - The Sea of
Cortez – soon putting us back over terra firma and a spectacular view of the Baja Peninsula. We point the nose of the plane due southwest, and thanks
to the miracle of GPS navigation and an autopilot, find ourselves on a direct course to our intended landing at the 4000 foot long dirt runway next to
the village of Adolfo Lopez Mateo.
By 10:30 a.m. local we’ve arrived to an awaiting van and the medical pros are off to work their magic. Total air time has been around three and a half
hours. In that period we’ve covered over 630 miles of “crows fly” distance. If driven from Phoenix it would have taken 4 full days of driving under
the best conditions. Small airplanes do work miracles as time machines.
The clinic workers don’t stop until all have been cared for. But it’s getting to be late afternoon and we do need to lift off for Mulege and the Hotel
Serenidad where a cold drink or margarita and wonderfully fresh seafood dinners await us. The afternoon sun lowers quickly behind the mountains west
of Mulege, and despite plenty of sunlight left elsewhere on the peninsula, a late arrival at the Serenidad’s dirt strip with little remaining light
can be disastrous.
We’re loaded up and back into the clear blue sky by 4:30 for the 45 minute flight; just in time to arrive, check in to the rooms (the others all
arrived the day before and only need to plan dinner), and unwind to the sounds of guests, locals and gringos mixing and laughing in the bar.
The “World Famous Saturday Night Pig Roast” is in full swing at the hotel’s courtyard.
The Serenidad has been doing it for over 40 years without ever missing a beat. Those guests and visitors arriving Saturday before noon marvel at the
gutted hog which is placed on a slow turning spit early afternoon, casually cooking to perfection until the chef pronounces it ready. Some will opt
for the buffet. Others group together to share a cab into town to eat at any one of the other great local restaurants.
After dinner comes a walk along the river – Rio Mulege, [really a series of springs forming an estuary which feeds into the sea from the west]; or a
drink or two and dancing to the beat of a local band at The Mesquite, a dance bar in the center of town filled on Saturday nights with friendly local
Mexicans and American tourists looking for some musical entertainment. By late evening most have retired as the morning sun will soon rise
brilliantly over the Sea of Cortez, and all must depart, like it or not, for home.
The take-off Sunday morning from the Serenidad’s private strip comes with a curious feeling of routine. We all feel safe inside the confines of the
aircraft having now made numerous take-offs and landings since our adventure began hours if not days ago.
The sense of pride and accomplishment we jointly feel can only be experienced after having witnessed the sincere gratitude expressed by those less
fortunate whose lives we’ve been lucky to have touched in some minor way. On this trip we may not have had the time to sport fish, scuba dive, wind-
surf, sea kayak or visit the cave paintings – those activities await other excursions. But we were none the less enriched in other ways which can not
be measured in terms understood by the casual tourist. Once safe at home in the U.S., we think only about next month’s upcoming trip and hope we’ll be
on it.
Mike Goering, 2005
About the author – 2013 update: Mike Goering has been flying to Mexico and the Baja for over 32 years. He has participated in clinics for the Flying
Samaritans regularly since 1985. He works as a construction management consultant to local developers in the metro Phoenix area, and is a licensed
general contractor now specializing with partners in developing utility scale solar plants for tax equity investors.
formerly Ordained in Rev. Ewing\'s Church by Mail - busted on tax fraud.......
Now joined L. Ron Hoover\'s church of Appliantology
\"Remember there is a big difference between kneeling down and bending over....\"
www.facebook.com/michael.l.goering |
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Stickers
Senior Nomad
Posts: 571
Registered: 4-12-2006
Location: SoCal
Member Is Offline
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Well done Captain Mike - brings back memories for me of flying Baja years ago.
My last trip was 2006 just before the TSA homeland insecurity paranoid electronic entry system went into effect.
We partied at Serenaded with the Santa Barbara flying Sams, ate pig and danced.
I just might get off my duff and do it again.
Cheers,
Rick
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capt. mike
Elite Nomad
Posts: 8085
Registered: 11-26-2002
Location: Bat Cave
Member Is Offline
Mood: Sling time!
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thx Rick, my last trip 2010 may.
just ain't the same anymore.
formerly Ordained in Rev. Ewing\'s Church by Mail - busted on tax fraud.......
Now joined L. Ron Hoover\'s church of Appliantology
\"Remember there is a big difference between kneeling down and bending over....\"
www.facebook.com/michael.l.goering |
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BajaRat
Super Nomad
Posts: 1303
Registered: 3-2-2010
Location: SW Four Corners / Bahia Asuncion BCS
Member Is Offline
Mood: Ready for some salt water with my Tecate
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Great stuff, great memories 
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