capt. mike
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Stuck in Baja: Saga of Mooney 35X part 2
Bad luck over the Sea of Cortez. Circa 1990, PART 2 – The rescue of 35 XRAY……
So – we all made it back safely to the States, Phoenix AZ to be specific. But to get there we all had to rent cars at one way rates [ouch] so as to
report in to our jobs and families who were all worried sick – at least the families said so – the jobs….who knows. Anyway I had to inform my plane
partners [I had 2 others] that their, well our bird was stuck down in Baja, alone in the middle of nowhere really, and that I at the moment had no
idea what the problem was nor what I was going to do to right the situation. Our loose agreement stated if you have mechanical issues out of town it
is the operator’s job to retrieve it, or bring it back to base, and all partners would share the field repairs depending on the nature of what had
gone wrong. Well neither of my partners EVER went out of the country with her – hell they never even landed on dirt! Needless to say there were frowns
and not grins about.
Not to worry guys! I will fix this. I already had known of Brown Field’s [San Diego] famous “stuck” plane rescue operation run by Juan Escalante who
I’d seen bring wrecks out of Baja many times from Mulege’s Serenidad airstrip as well as once before from where my plane currently was flummoxed –
Punta San Francisquito. This was going to be easy greasy I thought – a call to Juan, also telling him I was a Flying Samaritan – and I’d get a deal.
Well no, there are no “deals”…Juan quoted me $3,000 US cash deposit to start plus expenses [undefined by the way] and any parts and labor required to
get her flying out of her confine, no matter how many trips required if trip no. 1 doesn’t get it – an often common occurrence once the correct
diagnosis is made. This could add up to many uncapped thousands of $$s with no way really of covering my exposure. The partners could not be held to
share this - well maybe legitimate parts and labor as if related to an out of town stateside mishap – but Baja?? On your own, buddy…. The thing was
my Mexican insurance on the hull only covers in motion or not in motion collateral damage. A maintenance issue has NO coverage. Well I didn’t crash
her – she just has the flu or something. Maybe only a cold the way she coughs….bottom line – if I were to hire the best in the business I was going to
pay big time. It took about ½ a nano second for me to make a different call.
One of my partners then was a flight engineer on DC-8s for UPS. He did night runs to a hub in Louisville or someplace. Anyway he liked to work on
planes more than fly them; he had an A&P mechanics certificate with AI privileges – meaning he could sign off his own work – a pretty big deal.
But he was not going to Baja – no way. So I picked his brain best I could on what might be at issue, describing in full detail all the vagaries and
intermittent action of the motor and prop from the time it started in the air over Isla San Lorenzo until we landed, plus the several ground run-ups I
did to replicate the problem – which I could not to my satisfaction. During WWII they called these burps without apparent confirmed cause “gremlins”
and guys would just fly until something really did break that was identifiable, like a mag or alternator – or maybe a jug exploding…. You could limp
to a field for repairs at best or at worst you’d maybe dead stick it in and hope for the best outcome – a good outcome always involves zero flames.
After we talked Gene seemed a little stumped – well not to the point of not having thoughts as to cause – he had so many possible causes running out
his mouth to my and God’s ears that I just threw up my hands and said, “Ok – I’ll sort it out when I go back next month.”
“Next month!” he decried. “Yeah, next month. I am going to go back but it has to wait at least 3-4 weeks to get my work caught up and source some
help.” A plan was about to be hatched – something crazy that I would never try again under similar circumstances – but like the saying goes, “If
you’re going to be stupid you’d better be tough.” I was not tough – just young and without a lot of spare money to toss around.
The plane was insured for full replacement value while in Mexico, Canada and even the Bahamas – although I’d only gone to Mexico in the Mooney since
1985 – before that it was all in club rentals that allowed south of the border travel if you met the terms. Since insurance will only pay for a wreck
but not a repair – I’d take my chances. Whatever it was it WAS intermittent – that we knew. And when it went into “auto-rough” it was only for seconds
at a time that otherwise seemed like minutes. Yes, something was probably breaking inside her, slowly, but who’s to say when the real carnage would
rear its hungry maw, or if the engine might in fact run, albeit poorly, but for another few hours? I only needed about two and a half hours to get her
north to Calexico and a shop. The plan was forming privately, secretly in my head even as I was discussing with the partners.
In some vestige of universal serendipity both of my wife’s previous boyfriends were pilots. One flew military helos in Viet Nam but the later flew and
owned singles. We were friendly and actually had taken trips together using both of our airplanes to stay at his family condo at Durango Colorado. He
flew a Cherokee 6 – big, roomy, and slow but had 6 seats plus baggage. Sixes were known as flying pick up trucks. The gear was fixed – not retractable
like my fast Mooney – which was partially why Cherokees were slow. And the 6s ate a lot of gas with their 300 HP engines – again, big = heavy = need
horsepower = feed me more GAS!
So I called Steve. He’d flown often to Mazatlan on the mainland, even crossing over water from Cabo, and therefore was considered a knowledgeable
Mexico and Baja pilot. He also liked to go to Guaymas and neighboring San Carlos with his buddies to carouse – well - fish, dive, drink – and
generally be the bachelors they were – his crew.
The offer was simple – he could fill his plane with whomever he wanted or wanted to go plus I’d take the front right co-pilot’s seat. I’d eat all the
avgas round trip from Phoenix to San Francisquito and back, via Calexico – if he’d agree to schlep me south on a Saturday early so we both could get
out headed back on the following Sunday morning – a simple over - nighter. He’d never stayed at the place but knew all about it, even flown over it
once. He was stoked to do it if I’d cover his gas but the offer excluded his group’s food and booze which he accepted. The way they partied a beer and
booze tab could easily equal the avgas budget and he knew it. Anyway he was helping a friend and most pilots know they too may be in a jamb sometime
and need similar help. The trip was fair for all. We booked a date in 3 weeks. My stomach had a knot in it the size of a baseball…
The weekend weather couldn’t have been better. Clear spring skies and high pressure dominating all of the southwest including northern Baja. Winds
were forecast to stay light and variable along the routes both days meaning no heads or tails but an ability to plan the gas needed for both planes
and the bills I’d be owing once we got home – assuming we got home.
After a smooth Mexican customs clearing process at Hermosillo Sonora we quickly crossed the Cortez beginning at Kino Bay and 30 minutes later after
having gotten our feet wet [pilot speak for we’ve left land] found ourselves on the beach at San Francisquito by 10:00 am. The beer started to flow
and everyone grabbed a palapa hut before lunch. Steve’s plane had 4 guys and 2 girls on board. The girls were with 2 of the guys. I left mi esposa in
Phoenix, a situation which did not make her very happy – but my plan included bringing the Mooney home sans passengers and I didn’t want her to risk
coming along. She of course was terrified and in major protest of what I was doing.
So we partied through the rest of the day and into the night. Once early, before the drinks took hold, we tried to run the Mooney’s motor up and found
that it seemed fine. Steve said I ought to take her up and circle the patch a while – I declined – I planned one shot at this and wanted to go for it
fully in the morning – not have a bigger problem Saturday and risk a gloomy ride back in the Cherokee 6 on Sunday without my plane.
The concocted plan was simple in nature and efficient in design. I’d take off 1st. Steve and company would be behind, his engine already run-up and
checklists complete waiting me to clear the end of the dirt strip in a climbing right turn north east. Once I was clear he’d take off and come up
behind then abreast of me. We’d fly about a mile or less off the beach at 3000 ft. all the way to the US border. If anything happened to me he’d watch
me ditch and get a position fix for the 2nd rescue. I carried a full compliment of survival gear, food and water – plus radios etc – If I went in no
big deal. I’d await another rescue and my plane would be declared a total loss….Ka Ching!! This was my crazy plan – fly the damn thing out for cheap
or let it sink to the bottom and collect the full Monte.
And so the starry night after beach bonfires, freshly cooked grouper and rounds of tequila put everyone to bed. I reduced my usual consumption in
deference to better judgment of mind for the morning to come. I was in fact 1st up and began the annoyances needed to get the rest of the bleary eyed
crew up and at ‘em. We did allow them breakfast and all guzzled ice water and coffee. We paid our host Genaro who I’d known since 1980, and I handed
him the $100 I promised when I left nearly 4 weeks earlier. If you knew Genaro – his toothy grin was infectious. To him our adventure was nothing
special. His was a tough life – alone and running a desolate resort a full day’s drive to anyplace with civilization. Over the years he’d seen planes
come and some never leave. All part of the drill…his type of drill.
We loaded finally – I was terribly antsy. What if it didn’t even start? What if it quit before I had made a safe climb? Thoughts of accidents read in
all the flying periodicals I subscribed to were wreaking havoc in my head. Why was I doing such a crazy stunt? How will Janeen get along as a widow,
and in that event what will she think of me? Too late – I started my roll and all seemed fine. RPM was at climb power. Manifold pressure holding 29.92
inches which was about right for sea level on a non-turbo plane. Airspeed approaching 75 MPH – rotate and hold her! We were off in less than 1000 ft
and climbing at 1000 feet per minute headed straight out over the little North Bay towards the larger Bay of Angels. On the radio now – “64 Lima this
is 35 Xray – do you have me?” “Sure do 35 Xray. I am behind you and climbing up. I’ll be off your right wing shortly.”
Yes! We were doing it! Steve’s on my wing. The Mooney holding her own – in fact I had to throttle her back a couple of inches to keep the slower
Cherokee 6 on my wing. Not bad though, that would save ME gas! He was wide open burning an easy 15 or 16 gallons an hour in cruise while I was down to
8 GPH to match his 130 knot speed. If on my own I’d be doing 150 knots at 10 GPH.
I settled in for what I figured would be an easy ride to Calexico and a burger at the world famous Rosa’s Cantina. Then it happened….POP followed by
the same surging of the RPM and prop while manifold strangely held. Scanned all gauges – ran the same drill as when we were over the Cortez 4 weeks
earlier – fuel pump on, mixture rich, switch tanks, cycle prop, mag check – nothing. I called Steve – “Keep your eye on me – she’s doing it again!”
Looking right I suddenly noticed Steve was not in sight – where’d he go? “Steve I don’t see you – do you have me?”
“Well we did but we got to talking and I lost track of you.” “I am off your left someplace but you need to scout me – if I go swimming I need you to
confirm my 20.”
“Ok – we have you – what’s happening?” Before I could answer the RPM came back up and the surging stopped as quickly as it had begun 45 seconds
earlier. “I don’t know – it went goofy again but is fine now. I have no clue so let’s just keep going north for now.”
We soldiered on and the same thing occurred 2 or 3 times before we got to the top of the gulf to hit land south of Calexico. It got to be so routine I
lost all fear of it. But now I realized whatever was causing this anomaly – if it went kablooie….I’d have to dead stick into land – the water splash
was an option now gone. Soon we were both 10 miles south of Calexico – an airport of entry with no tower – only a common advisory frequency. Steve was
not familiar with Calexico and never landed there before. The wind driven dust and haze had him hampered. It started again and this time I said,
“Let’s switch to Calexico on 122.8 so I can call a mayday if I need one.” “Ok”, he replied. And followed me over. But now the talk between us was all
about where the hell is the field? I was getting close and the engine again settled down. Steve was hopelessly lost apparently and continued to query
over the common frequency. Finally another plane close or in the pattern came up and shouted, “Hey – can you two go to some other frequency and talk
if you need to so we can have our unicom back?” I was instantly embarrassed but made one more call to Steve that I was in the pattern, left hand
traffic for 27 and no wind – I’d be down in a few but don’t drift too far north of the border – double back if you think you’re north – which he was –
almost to El Centro.
As I taxied to customs I heard him call the field in sight and he landed 5 minutes later. We cleared and I called home while I was looking for a
mechanic. After they cleared we had lunch but no beers – more flying lay ahead. There was no shop open at Calexico and no one to call on a Sunday. The
plan was for me to go to Yuma about 30 minutes or less to the east and Steve and company could saunter all the way back to Phoenix – about 100 minutes
for him. We’d hang together as before but my options if it quit for good were slim except find a length of road or desert to put her in. And – I was
getting awfully complacent and in fact bored with the occasionally motor issue, so it was kind of becoming a non event.
We launched by 1 or 2 PM I think and flew in a loose formation towards Yuma. After 10 minutes I suggested I’d be fine and if he wanted just head for
home and I’d speed up for Yuma on my lonesome. He did and I did and then it started again….wild RPM fluctuations and pronounced roughness. I
yawned….”you again, Mr. Lycoming?? Why do you torture me so? You aren’t going to break today so why not just shut the hell up?”
It went back to normal and I called the tower for a priority landing. They asked if I needed them to “run equipment” – fire trucks etc. – “no thanks,
have a little roughness off and on but pretty sure I can land her and taxi to Sun West Air.” I did just that, parked it and got a taxi to the bus
station where I caught the next one for Phoenix. I was finished with one way car rentals.
To be continued as part 3 – the cause, repair and final trip home for N3535X.
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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Ken Bondy
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Great! Loved every word Mike!! Fabulous story!!! So glad you made it!!
[Edited on 6-4-2013 by Ken Bondy]
carpe diem!
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BajaRat
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Still hangin....... Thanks Capitan 
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motoged
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Mike,
On the edge of my seat. 
A handful of years ago I got in touch with you and we discussed the possibility of me hiring (gas $$ ?) you for a few hours of a loop out of Mulege if
we were at La Serenidad at the same time. Unfortunately our schedules weren't in synch. I am sorry that chance is history 
Don't believe everything you think....
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Stickers
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Nice post Cap but where is PART 1
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BajaBlanca
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http://forums.bajanomad.com/viewthread.php?tid=67499#pid8187...
Part 1 is the above link.
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capt. mike
Elite Nomad
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Location: Bat Cave
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motoged - yes we missed it but you never know what the future holds!
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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elgatoloco
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Fun read. Glad you made it!
MAGA
Making Attorneys Get Attorneys
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capt. mike
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Matt - can you believe it was 9 years ago we did the 1000 in La Paz??!!
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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elgatoloco
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Does not seem like 9 years. Time flies..............we still talk about it. Good times!
MAGA
Making Attorneys Get Attorneys
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Barry A.
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Mike-----------GREAT story, told by a GREAT story-teller.
Whew, had be emphathising A LOT!!!! 
Can't wait for entry #3.
Barry
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capt. mike
Elite Nomad
Posts: 8085
Registered: 11-26-2002
Location: Bat Cave
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i'll wrap it up soon, the epilogue is short, well i can make it short - most of the good drama is over in the prior narrative.
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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