Just before landing, I switched on the power briefly to lower the flaps, and tried to contact our base again to tell them I was landing. No answer. After landing, I looked under the panel to see if I could find out what was causing that circuit breaker to pop. I opened the cowl and looked at the alternator and voltage regulator. Everything looked normal. It had now been over 45 minutes since anyone had heard from me, and they would begin looking for me soon if they didn’t hear anything. So, I and the airstrip agents made the 15 minute hike into the village to use their HF radio. After telling them I was OK, I got a waiver from our chief pilot to make the one-and-a-half hour flight back to Tarakan, since I’d be without an alternator and flying “in the dark” most of the way. I was disappointed since I’d specially arranged my schedule that day to do some church flights for several folks out of Long Metun: two pastor’s wives and their children were heading home to two different villages, one pastor was heading to Malinau, and there was a medical patient in another village I was to pick up. They were also pretty disappointed.

I told them I was going to have to head straight to Tarakan without passengers, but if for some reason I started the plane and it began working again, I’d shut down and they could get on board. Well, someone must have been praying hard, because sure enough, when I started it up, everything was working normally! I made it the rest of the day without another problem with the electrical system. (We still haven’t figured out what caused that circuit breaker to pop, and we’ve flown it several days since it happened).

Passengers helping a medevac patient board the plane at Malinau.

I quickly filled out a flight plan, grabbed my helmet and flight bag, checked fuel (which had already been added by our awesome staff), and got in my favorite Cessna 206 for the empty leg to Malinau. Thankfully there were no delays from ATC, and I was wheels up leaving Tarakan at 4:40pm. The weather was beautiful, and with only myself and a few hours of fuel on board, I was quickly up to my cruising altitude of 4,500 feet. Normally we run our engines “lean of peak,” a method of leaning the engine to an economical fuel burn to save fuel with the tradeoff of a slower airspeed, but today I was using a richer fuel burn, trying to squeeze out every knot I could in a race against the setting sun.

I arrived in Malinau around 5:12pm and was relieved to see our MAF airstrip agents waiting on the ramp, along with the lady in labor and her family. We quickly loaded the lady into the airplane, and after just eight minutes on the ground, we were airborne again, heading back to Tarakan. Half an hour later, we touched down on the ground in Tarakan at 5:52pm . . . five minutes before sunset! An ambulance was there to take the lady to the hospital where she could get the medical help she needed, and I was relieved to have a little bit of light left to park the airplane.

A couple weeks ago, we discovered some pretty bad corrosion under the floor of one of our 206’s during an inspection.  Although we all knew that meant the plane couldn’t fly as scheduled the next day, I was kind of excited to do a sheet metal job.  It had been several years since I got to do one!

Apparently a couple years ago a passenger sneaked on a battery, which then spilled battery acid all over the plane.  Although it was cleaned up as much as possible, there’s always residual acid waiting to eat away that aircraft aluminum.  To get this piece out, we had to take up a lot of the floor at the back of the plane, then cut it out, make a new piece and splice it in, then put it all back together.

There’s something satisfying about keeping these old planes maintained and in tip-top shape.  Many airlines and operators like to advertise their brand new planes.  If I know an airline skips a lot of maintenance, I’d definitely want to be flying in a newer plane!  But for MAF, we take pride in our maintenance and our high standards.  I don’t mind at all that our planes are 30 years old because I’m heavily involved in the maintenance on our planes (our engines, by the way, are all brand new…we don’t even overhaul them).

Many people don’t realize all the maintenance that’s involved to keep these planes running, so I’d like to tip my hat to all the Maintenance Specialists out there who are the unsung heroes of MAF.  Thanks guys!

On this day there were only three passengers, which meant I could take my four-year-old son along. I told Drew and he was ecstatic. However, when the passengers arrived at our hangar, I began to realize the sadness of the situation. A 28-year-old woman had an incurable, malignant brain tumor. They had just arrived from the big city of Surabaya, where they had gone for medical help but were told there was nothing more they could do. Her husband was with her, along with much of their extended family who had come to the airport to see her for the last time. Her two young children, one about the same age as my son Drew, were waiting at their home village of Long Bawan.

As I looked into her eyes, which were rapidly pacing back and forth, my heart welled up with compassion. I couldn’t help but think of my own wife and our three young children. We all prayed after everyone was loaded in the airplane, and her family said their last goodbyes. Her husband held her hand the entire flight as she lay down in the back of the plane.

Where was the hope in this situation? We like to talk about saving lives, villages coming to Christ, and lives being changed. As a guy, and especially as a pilot/mechanic, I like to solve problems and fix things. However, this was a time to simply show compassion, just as Jesus did to the hurting of His generation.

One day God will establish a new earth with no more tears and no more death, but until then, we are reminded that we live in a fallen world.

“He will wipe every tear from their eyes, and there will be no more death or sorrow or crying or pain.” Revelation 21:4 (NLT)

When is the last time you either gave or received compassion?

“I’ll be there around 2:30 p.m.,” I told the agent. I would have to cancel another flight, but I felt bad for the ladies being left behind. I am flying in the Krayan region of Borneo, about an hour from where we live on the coast. Most of the villages I’m flying into are relatively close together from my point of view—10-15 minutes flying time— but an arduous trek through dense jungle and over steep mountains for the villagers on the ground.

Ladies from a village not far from the one talked about in the story

As I approach my next stop, I look over toward Pa’Upan and notice the weather isn’t looking great. I return to Long Bawan, put on extra fuel in case I can’t make it into Pa’Upan, and quickly takeoff again to pick up the ladies there. Though I dodge a few rain showers along the way, getting into Pa’Upan is relatively uneventful. Besides, rain showers are the norm this time of day. After loading up the ladies, I point the nose of the Cessna 206 back toward Long Bawan for the 13-minute flight, but I can tell I’m going to have to skirt around this weather, which is quickly deteriorating. Just as I’m deciding which path I’m going to take, a bolt of lightning flashes and strikes the ground just a couple miles ahead! The women all jump (and so do I!), and I immediately bank the wings right and return to Pa’Upan. What was just a rain shower before has turned into a thunderstorm.

Thankfully, I was able to go back in the next day and pick up the ladies and take them to their conference in Long Bawan. The weather was beautiful the second time around!