crash | kra SH |
verb
(of an aircraft) fall from the sky and violently hit the land or sea : a jet crashed 200 yards from the school.
[ trans. ] cause (an aircraft) to fall from the sky in this way.

I got that from the Oxford American Dictionary. It was a long subject of discussion at the bar the day of the event. Most claimed it was not a crash. I hesitate to agree.

But hey! I was there damn it!

It is an interesting group of people that will travel halfway around the world to take a picture of a fish. Safe to say they are all nuts. A bit of brain damage from excess nitrogen in the blood. Don't judge me too harshly for these words, for I am one of them! In my case it may be worse. I wanted to go up in a home-made plane with floats instead of wheels and fly around taking pictures of these lunatics taking pictures of a fish.
Now who is crazy?

Ok, so it is a big fish we are after. The Whale Shark. The whale shark is a gentle and slow filter feeding shark and happens to be the largest living fish species. It is with great expectations that the group will get into a boat with camera at the ready for the chance to snorkel with these beauties and possibly get a nice picture or two.
It is however a big ocean. Even as we are only searching in the outlying area of La Paz harbor, we have a great task at hand in the plane. It is up to us to see these beasts from the air, and while circling overhead some 1000 feet up, guide the boat to the target. Easy! Sure.

I digress... let's get back to Pelicano Roho. Hope I spelled that right. My spanish sucks. I will stick to Red Pelican. This is the story of the last flight of the Red Pelican.

The Red Pelican is an Ultra-light Plane. Purchased 5 years ago by the owner of Club Cantamar in La Paz, Mexico, it has faithfully flown to find Whale Sharks for many seasons. She is getting a bit rough around the edges… As a matter of fact, a number of the folks in my group tried valiantly to talk me out of flying in her. Like I have ever listened to the voice of reason before! So as the pilot worked on replacing a bearing in the propeller assembly, I grabbed a sweatshirt, my camera, and prepared to go.

The briefing: here is a headset for the radio... if it doesn't work, wiggle this... try not to lean on the extra controls between your legs... Oh, and the seat-belt is broken, just lay the straps over your shoulders... It is very windy, you may need to hold on here...
I had been watching the preparation, and noticed a couple of things. You get the fuel mixture into the tank via siphon, and it took 15 minutes in the hanger to get the engine started, via a pull cord. Neither of these things should affect me or the flight, so off we go!
Well, sort of. I was unaware of the difficulty in getting a plane of this type off the ground. Scratch that. Off the WATER! We found a rather quiet spot in the harbor, and hit the gas! We seemed to be going nearly 50 mph bouncing from swell to swell before we finally got a foot in the air, then three, and finally, 60 mph and gaining real altitude.

Once airborne the beauty hits you. This area of Mexico is beautiful from the ground, heavens, it is really stunning from the air. The camera comes out and my mind is on that which surrounds me, the sky, the wind, the mountains, the shoreline... it goes on and on. As a novice to this realm, I seem to loose a sense of realism, and fall into a bit of a trance. Maybe I am narced!


The job at hand however is to find Whale Sharks. The ocean seems so far below, and when the sun glints in the right direction, there is nothing to see but a dancing show of lights on the water. So we fly, and look, and circle, and look, and fly some more. The group on the boat Sempre Si left for the assumed area of encounter long before us, so as we near the end of our first hour of airtime, we are greeted with words of disdain from the radio. Seems they are looking for a sacrifice to the whale shark gods and I should be thrown into the sea... Bastards! Rather than lighten the tail section of the plane so drastically, we decide to continue looking. I for one was OK with that decision!
I then discovered the fuel gauge. The pilot asked me to lift my seat back, twist around, and see where the fuel level was in the tank. Above the frame, more than 4 gallons, below the frame, less. Cool, it is right below the frame. An adjustment to the chronograph (I call it a watch!) and we are again on the hunt.

Things look very different from up here. Small. We have seen Mantas, Dolphins, Dorado, and even a Hammerhead Shark. However, not a whale shark to be seen. It is now over 2 hours into our flight, and the fuel is WAY below the frame! We called the boat, offered our condolences, and headed home. I am pretty sure I heard someone on the boat looking for a rifle… what could they want THAT for?

The pilot was not looking any longer. I got the feeling we had really pushed the fuel, and he was working on the trim, throttle, etc, to try and get us back as quickly and efficiently as possible. I was thinking about the bar, and the need to hide from the group upon their return after our dismal failure to spot any subjects for their quest. It was at that moment that I saw it. Another dolphin. No, it is too big… Oh my God! It looks a little like a whale shark skimming the surface. That is it… no more drinking in the morning. I am hallucinating! At the risk of having the boat hear my folly, I taped the pilot on the shoulder and pointed to my apparition. OK, I don’t have to quit drinking this week. I had discovered the Holy Grail! My first from the air! Damn they are small from up here, but I had done it! Now where the heck is the Sempre Si?? There they are, about 2 miles away headed in towards the resort. Sempre Si, Sempre Si… Do you copy?? Hurry! Over here!
We circled over the shark while waiting for the boat to arrive. Seemed like a very long time. We are going to have to get a faster boat…
As the boat got into position, and Antonio, the dive master got his eyes on the big fish, we left the scene. There would be no baby-sitting of the group this time. We had to head home. We suddenly remembered the line on the frame…

Then I heard them. Those two words you never NEVER want to hear your pilot say.

OH SHIT!

At the same instant my brain realized the horror of those words, my ears kicked in and let me hear the sputter. Just like in the movies! Sputter, pop, spit, chug chug… The radio chatter begins… out of fuel… few more seconds maybe… tanker is in the way… left or right?

LEFT OR RIGHT? Did the pilot just ask me that? I look down and see it. Right where we need to come down (that would be in front of us and down. Some would call it the ocean) is a big ship. Can’t he move? Doesn’t he know there are two crazy people about to crash into his big boat?

I yell LEFT into the radio. Sputter cough, POP, cough sputter… I look over and see the altimeter. 850 feet. We turn left, try and get back into the wind, and then it happens.
Quiet.
This is where time stops for a second. And the checklist begins. Camera safe? clean underwear? seat belt broken… WAIT! I forgot about that. Didn’t seem like such a big deal a couple hours ago, but it seems a bit more important now! The underwear part isn't such a big deal. It is Mexico, and I am not wearing any. I do however finally understand why Mom always said that… but damn, the seatbelt thing is a concern! OK, I will put this arm here on the wing strut to protect my head, and I will wrap this arm around the camera on my stomach to protect it… I surely can’t bend over to assume that famous position the real airlines describe! Now the fall begins in earnest.
Hey, I took Physics. 125 feet per second squared is the rate of acceleration due to gravity. Or 25 feet.. Something… Suddenly I have not a CLUE what that means, but damn I thought this was a glider!! NOT! We are falling fast, like a stone.

And then it happens. That moment of clarity. I have always heard about your life flashing before your eyes. Not me. I had one thought, one subject, one person in my head. The level of clarity and focus in those seconds is truly amazing. I also remember asking God a favor.

SPLASH! Yeah, it happens that fast. Right onto a 3 foot swell, the floats bounce off and we careen towards the next. The sea has gotten a bit rough, and we are skiing on it. The stick is pulled WAY back as we bounce from crest to crest, finally coming to rest on the fifth bounce. We are down.

OK, I said earlier it got quiet. I was wrong. This is a new quiet. No wind. No engine. No breathing. HEY! We need to breathe! Slowly, carefully, but breathing nonetheless! Then the sounds begin… the creaking of the pontoons, the wing bouncing in the breeze, the water moving by under us. But we do not speak.

Can I assume, since we are out of fuel, that it would be OK if I have a cigarette?
I broke the long silence. The pilot laughed. We shook hands across the seats. We grinned like Cheshire Cats at being alive! It was a good moment. It was a good day. It was a good life! And we smoked.

In some ridiculous attempt at shortening this tale, I will not spend a lot of time talking about how we could not reach anyone on the radio. Our calls to the boat went unanswered, as well as calls to the resort, for about 45 minutes. Sure, we had concerns about the length of time the pontoons would float, as they were known to take on water during take-off and landing. But we were alive! The calls were finally answered, a rescue boat was detailed to us, and we got to the bar in a reasonable amount of time.

And I was very thirsty!

Addendum:
I was told this would be the last flight of the noble bird, and that a new plane would be arriving this same day. With a larger fuel tank, and an electric starter. I think there is even going to be a seatbelt in the back for those as foolish as I! I was also told the story of the name.

It would seem that the Red Pelican likes the water almost as much as the air. On her maiden solo voyage, the owner of the plane, having had few lessons in how to, made a small error. From 100 feet, he dove her straight into the water. She looked like a Red Pelican diving for a snack. The name stuck. I find it very interesting that both her first and last flight were crashes, and am proud to hold a place in her history!

Notes from the field: Jennifer Louise Shoot - Location #2

Due to the extreme time constraints of this job, location scouting and art direction was being very rushed. As much as I was unhappy with the situation, failure was not an option. The deadline was much closer than comfort would allow.

I drove up to the bar, and had a look around. Then I had a beer. or three.

I hated it. It was too small inside to light well, too busy not to have it take away from the main subject, and I would have to shoot after hours, so I would need to supply my own extras. As to the outside area, it just seemed to busy, a bit "touristy", and not the look I had in mind for the shots we needed.

Of course, when I told the client where I had been, and what I thought of the place, I was greeted with "I love that bar!" as a retort.

So the stage was set, and a couple nights later we trekked off to the bar near closing time, ready to take over and make it mine as soon as the last customer left.

It was a cold night in the desert, so cold in fact that Jenn had to remain in her street clothes until I was ready to start shooting. Note to self: Cold in the desert at night - Bring jackets for cast and crew (That would be me and Jennifer)! Two hours of setup later, we were ready to go.

There is a point to this rambling...

The shots we got in the bar that night are some of the best of the series.

I was reminded of a couple things. Always listen to the client. As much as we think we know it all, they are the ones we need to please. Second, and as important, remember to work with what you have, give it 110%, and you can turn the worst situation into a success story every time!

Third, don't expect your client to throw on a sexy little dress at an outdoor stage in the middle of the night in the desert if you didn't bring a damn thick parka along for her...