Oh shit ! I’m going down
On Boxing Day the 26th December 1994 we crossed the Johore Causeway at about 5.45 in the morning heading for Batu Pahat, Malaysia. The drive along the coastal road was refreshing in the cool environment of the countryside. We chit-chatted all the way in
order to keep the driver alert otherwise he might easily doze-off. We stopped for breakfast of roti-prata at a small town of Senggarang. After our breakfast we continued another 5 – 6 kilometers to the airstrip. Finally we arrived at Tanjong Laboh, it had a semi-grass runway of 1,800 ft in length and the width of 100 ft. We immediately opened the hunger and rolled out micro-light a type called Mx II manufactured by the firm of Quick Silver. The American company had produced some 10,000 units at that time and still on-going. It is a beginner’s plane, it’s construction is simple being built of aluminum with fabric surface and therefore maintenance is low. Basically it is a “rags and tubes “ flying machine like the pioneering years.
Having done my “Preflight Checks” my mentor Mr. Tay appeared and told me to take her up while the weather was good. The Mx II did not have an electric starter so I had to pull-start by wrenching hard the starter cord. The tiny engine burst into life roaring loudly and
I got into the left seat. Pushing the throttle gradually the Mx started to roll forward slowly as I taxied it to the threshold of runway #15 that was in use. There were only 3 instruments to monitor the airspeed, the rpm and the exhaust temperature. The airspeed was a simple transparent tube with a long pin in the center that had a disc running through it. At the bottom of the tube was an opening for inlet, thus allowing the air to rush in, building up pressure and pushes up the disc. Meantime you could read the airspeed from the indicated markings on the side of the tube.
As I reached the threshold I had a quick glance around and was satisfied that there was no other air traffic. I pushed the throttle to the fullest and the Mx went charging along the runway beating up the dust. A sudden jolt confirmed that I had left the ground. I was airborne and gaining height as the Mx climbed gradually to circuit height of 200 ft. As I flew pass Jon’s hanger I made a left bank and found myself in the down-wind and parallel to the runway. At the other end I could see my mentor’s micro-light a GT500 being rolled out of the hanger. It was a beauty with sky blue wings flashed with red and
yellow stripes and with an immaculate white fuselage. When I was over the pond area there was turbulence and I was bouncing about until quick reaction stabilize the situation. Another left bank took me over the coconut plantation and repeated another one into up-wind leg. The reasons for the many left banks were because I was flying a left-hand circuit. It was a standard air traffic pattern adopted for the circuit at Tanjong Laboh. By then I was flying parallel to the runway again heading for the piece of hilly land jutting out to the sea which we called the “Cape”. I noticed that the wind direction had changed from observation of smoke arising from the kampong. In that case I had to switch to the opposite threshold in order to land against the wind. As a rule micro-light are not recommended to land tailwind for the sake of safety.
So continuing towards the Cape I did a left bank descending gradually into base-leg; flying over the tiny island which is the landmark for turning. Another left bank into Finals and the runway appeared before me. I focused at the threshold runway #33 and aligned my aircraft to the center between the first two markers, descending gradually. As I approached the hill on my left I was hit by turbulence at anticipated spot. The position was around where wind from the sea hits the hill and roll over the top causing turbulence. I managed to control, reducing speed and pitched the nose down descending over the oil palm trees.
On Boxing Day the 26th December 1994 we crossed the Johore Causeway at about 5.45 in the morning heading for Batu Pahat, Malaysia. The drive along the coastal road was refreshing in the cool environment of the countryside. We chit-chatted all the way in
order to keep the driver alert otherwise he might easily doze-off. We stopped for breakfast of roti-prata at a small town of Senggarang. After our breakfast we continued another 5 – 6 kilometers to the airstrip. Finally we arrived at Tanjong Laboh, it had a semi-grass runway of 1,800 ft in length and the width of 100 ft. We immediately opened the hunger and rolled out micro-light a type called Mx II manufactured by the firm of Quick Silver. The American company had produced some 10,000 units at that time and still on-going. It is a beginner’s plane, it’s construction is simple being built of aluminum with fabric surface and therefore maintenance is low. Basically it is a “rags and tubes “ flying machine like the pioneering years.
Having done my “Preflight Checks” my mentor Mr. Tay appeared and told me to take her up while the weather was good. The Mx II did not have an electric starter so I had to pull-start by wrenching hard the starter cord. The tiny engine burst into life roaring loudly and
I got into the left seat. Pushing the throttle gradually the Mx started to roll forward slowly as I taxied it to the threshold of runway #15 that was in use. There were only 3 instruments to monitor the airspeed, the rpm and the exhaust temperature. The airspeed was a simple transparent tube with a long pin in the center that had a disc running through it. At the bottom of the tube was an opening for inlet, thus allowing the air to rush in, building up pressure and pushes up the disc. Meantime you could read the airspeed from the indicated markings on the side of the tube.
As I reached the threshold I had a quick glance around and was satisfied that there was no other air traffic. I pushed the throttle to the fullest and the Mx went charging along the runway beating up the dust. A sudden jolt confirmed that I had left the ground. I was airborne and gaining height as the Mx climbed gradually to circuit height of 200 ft. As I flew pass Jon’s hanger I made a left bank and found myself in the down-wind and parallel to the runway. At the other end I could see my mentor’s micro-light a GT500 being rolled out of the hanger. It was a beauty with sky blue wings flashed with red and
yellow stripes and with an immaculate white fuselage. When I was over the pond area there was turbulence and I was bouncing about until quick reaction stabilize the situation. Another left bank took me over the coconut plantation and repeated another one into up-wind leg. The reasons for the many left banks were because I was flying a left-hand circuit. It was a standard air traffic pattern adopted for the circuit at Tanjong Laboh. By then I was flying parallel to the runway again heading for the piece of hilly land jutting out to the sea which we called the “Cape”. I noticed that the wind direction had changed from observation of smoke arising from the kampong. In that case I had to switch to the opposite threshold in order to land against the wind. As a rule micro-light are not recommended to land tailwind for the sake of safety.
So continuing towards the Cape I did a left bank descending gradually into base-leg; flying over the tiny island which is the landmark for turning. Another left bank into Finals and the runway appeared before me. I focused at the threshold runway #33 and aligned my aircraft to the center between the first two markers, descending gradually. As I approached the hill on my left I was hit by turbulence at anticipated spot. The position was around where wind from the sea hits the hill and roll over the top causing turbulence. I managed to control, reducing speed and pitched the nose down descending over the oil palm trees.
Tanjong Laboh left-hand circuit pattern
Approaching the threshold I could see the white kapor (chalk) painted on the ground as an indicating mark for the beginning of the runway. The ground appeared to be rushing madly towards me as I came lower and lower. On passing the threshold I reduced power,
by applying a bit of back pressure on the control stick to maintain nose up. The Mx touched down with just a slight bump and rolled along. I immediately pushed the throttle to full and the Mx shot up again climbing furiously gaining height. That practice is known in aviation as “Touch and go” and we go through the exercise to gain more experience and thus sharpening our skills. Then it was left again all the way into cross-wind leg and into down-wind leg heading back towards the Cape.
Maintaining circuit height of 200 ft over the Cape I made a left bank descending gradually into base-leg to over the tiny island. In an attempt to turn left into ‘finals’ I was hit again by turbulence this time more severe that tilted my wings sharply. I was shaken and in panic abandoned my attempt continuing onward more to my right. I made a right hand teardrop a turn that would put me back to the base-leg. However I had lost height during the maneuver and was too low for comfort.
I pushed the throttle full for more power in order to climb but suddenly the engine stopped at that particular moment and so did my heart. “Oh shit! I’m going down”. It came as a complete shock for the unexpected had happened. In the spur of the moment I began desperately to memorise the lessons drummed into me during my training sessions on emergency landing. Fortunately I had one experience with my mentor when our engine malfunctioned and he put it down in a graceful glide safely back to the airstrip. I thought of it and remained calmed, maintaining airspeed by putting the nose down. I had in mind of the airstrip but that was out of question as I did not have the altitude to reach it. As I glided along the coastline the trees before me grew larger and larger to a frightening proportion. If I did nothing the danger of crashing into the trees was imminent so I looked for an alternative landing site. The only one available was a mud flat off shore and time was running out. I was in a situation like out of the fire and into the deep blue sea. I went in for my option gliding my Mx into position and hope for the best. In approaching I managed to avoid some obstacles by way of wooden stakes protruding out high above the ground as anchoring points for small boats. When I was low enough I put her gently for the touch-down and hope for the best but the mud was too soft. The Mx ploughed into it and on impact broke the nose section, tilting the tail right up. The mud hit me with such force that my helmet and goggles almost torn away from my face.
For a moment I was in complete shock, shaken from the ordeal and laid motionless. I was in mud up to my waist apparently the undercarriage had given way and I was lower than normal. As I came to my senses I first cleared the mud from my face to be able to see and ran my hands down to both of my legs to feel if they were broken. Fortunately they were not and I sigh with relief thanking the Good Lord for sparing his worthless creature. I was still strapped in my harness and worked by sense of feeling to release the locking mechanism. To extricate myself I held on the horizontal bar of the ‘A” frame above my head and hauled myself out. I managed to stand up in the mud and tried walking but it was laboriously slow and exhausting after a few steps. The after effects had taken toll I was badly shaken and even uncontrollably wet my pants.
Two fishermen nearby were equally surprised that the unexpected had happened, but they were of no help. In those frantic moments of struggle, I had drained out what was left of
my energy. My throat was parched dry as I laid there de-hydrated. Progress was dead slow one step at a time. You extricate one leg from the mud and step ahead before working on the other leg. I ended up sitting in the mud in complete exhaustion. My mind wondering whether someone at the airstrip had noted that my flight was overdue. I strained my ears to catch the sound of the search planes but to no avail. I then recollecting a few days ago when back home I was watching an old movie of some one fell into a quicksand and sinking fast. However the response had been timely as Tarzan appeared at the scene, handed out a branch and rescued him. That day sadly there was no Tarzan to the rescue but the two unconcerned fisherman going about with their fishy business.
That phrase “God help those who help themselves” struck me and I decided to act. Sitting down waiting was not doing any good as the tide was also coming in. I had to find a way so I decided to extricate one leg at a time from the mud and laid flat face down distributing my body weight equally over the mud. I discovered that in a “prone” position I could move better. So taking advantage of my new found solution I slowly made progress on all “fours” by crawling like an alligator towards the shore. At the tip of the Cape the shoreline was rocky with boulders towering high above. Further down it gave way to a mangrove swamp that fringed the shore.
Oh shit! I'm down
The mangrove created a natural barrier of vegetation that grew in close proximity with the multiple roots crisps-crossed or intertwine. To make matter worse the ground had pools of water making it slippery. On nearing shore I stood up and begun walking to the swamp. The going was slow hampered by this natural obstruction. I struggled by crawling under or climbing over but constantly slipping and falling. I was drenched to the skin and the mud gave out a very strong unpleasant odour.
The swamp gave way to higher ground and that became drier but the undergrowth was very much thicker. The gigantic trees were towering right up with their green canopy spread out shutting out the sunlight. It was dark only streamers of light manage to penetrate through some openings. It was a night-mare; just imagine a guy from a big city suddenly found himself in the darkness of a jungle with little sense of direction. The visibility was restricted to a few feet of the green, alien environment to which I was not accustomed to. Not only was I disorientated but also scared to death of encountering the wild animals. Meantime the unfamiliar jungle orchestra struck up a symphony of weird sounds that came I think from the crickets, frogs and other insects. At one stage there were some commotion created by movements of larger animals through the undergrowth as they scurried away. The ground was uneven and damp with decaying leaves and branches covered the entire floor. Humidity was high making it uncomfortably stuffy and I ended up soaking with perspiration.
The swamp gave way to higher ground and that became drier but the undergrowth was very much thicker. The gigantic trees were towering right up with their green canopy spread out shutting out the sunlight. It was dark only streamers of light manage to penetrate through some openings. It was a night-mare; just imagine a guy from a big city suddenly found himself in the darkness of a jungle with little sense of direction. The visibility was restricted to a few feet of the green, alien environment to which I was not accustomed to. Not only was I disorientated but also scared to death of encountering the wild animals. Meantime the unfamiliar jungle orchestra struck up a symphony of weird sounds that came I think from the crickets, frogs and other insects. At one stage there were some commotion created by movements of larger animals through the undergrowth as they scurried away. The ground was uneven and damp with decaying leaves and branches covered the entire floor. Humidity was high making it uncomfortably stuffy and I ended up soaking with perspiration.
The jungle
Occasionally I slipped and fell, crashing down to the ground but quickly got up to my feet, suffering only minor cuts or bruises. My greatest concerned was snakes, whether pythons, cobras or others; those creepy, slimy, cold blooded creatures strike instant fear into my heart. I was on a sharp look-out for them taking no chances.
As it was over our familiar circuit area I knew the ground well enough and was certain it was not a large area. I guessed if I kept on a straight course I would certainly hit a clearing. So with my fingers crossed I continued on praying at the same time. My eyes peeled wide opened to anticipate any danger. After a while I spotted before me a brighter stream of light penetrating through. I headed for that direction and to my relief found the clearing. Finally I stepped out into the open where the air was most cooling and refreshing. My confidence and moral was immediately restored.
As I walked down towards a stream I heard the sound of the search plane and looking up I spotted the welcoming sight of the GT500 piloted by Tay my mentor, with someone in the back seat. They flew very low just above tree top level and waved at me. My heart jumped with joy and I waved back sawing the air wildly.
On approaching a stream and about to walk on a single plank that laid across, when suddenly confronted a large awesome ugly looking iguana. Incidentally both took fright, the iguana bolted upstream creating a lot of noise and splashing the water as it went. Meantime I took flight in the opposite direction making a record breaking sprint to some distance away. I stopped for a while for things to subside before returning and crossed the stream without further incident.
Occasionally I slipped and fell, crashing down to the ground but quickly got up to my feet, suffering only minor cuts or bruises. My greatest concerned was snakes, whether pythons, cobras or others; those creepy, slimy, cold blooded creatures strike instant fear into my heart. I was on a sharp look-out for them taking no chances.
As it was over our familiar circuit area I knew the ground well enough and was certain it was not a large area. I guessed if I kept on a straight course I would certainly hit a clearing. So with my fingers crossed I continued on praying at the same time. My eyes peeled wide opened to anticipate any danger. After a while I spotted before me a brighter stream of light penetrating through. I headed for that direction and to my relief found the clearing. Finally I stepped out into the open where the air was most cooling and refreshing. My confidence and moral was immediately restored.
As I walked down towards a stream I heard the sound of the search plane and looking up I spotted the welcoming sight of the GT500 piloted by Tay my mentor, with someone in the back seat. They flew very low just above tree top level and waved at me. My heart jumped with joy and I waved back sawing the air wildly.
On approaching a stream and about to walk on a single plank that laid across, when suddenly confronted a large awesome ugly looking iguana. Incidentally both took fright, the iguana bolted upstream creating a lot of noise and splashing the water as it went. Meantime I took flight in the opposite direction making a record breaking sprint to some distance away. I stopped for a while for things to subside before returning and crossed the stream without further incident.
Iguana local monitor lizard
A van was sent to pick me up and as we came to the airstrip I saw that the GT500 had already landed. The van pulled up at the hanger and a small reception party was there to greet me. Tay with the guys and the caretaker Noordin with his family were glad to see me in one piece. I was soaked in mud and the stench was over-powering. Rick was delighted to play fireman and hosed me down with a high-powered water spray gun. He was enjoying himself and apparently made me an object of fun thus entertaining those watching.
Tay immediately organized a recovery party to go and salvage the downed Mx before the in coming tide. We loaded all the things that we needed into the van, tools, ropes, planks, drinking-water and drove off. We arrived at the stream where I had earlier encountered the iguana. We disembarked and as we will have to go into the mud, all decided to strip down to only underwear. It was a terrible, unthinkable decision and most humiliating. It amounted to injuring our pride and dignity as pilots. However under such circumstances we no other alternative but to learn how to eat humble pie. I did not strip as I was already wet and saw no point in doing so. The party was comical as it consisted of a chartered accountant, an assistant manager, a government servant, a hair-stylist and a contractor. Now the scenario presented was really down right amusing; we had a group of semi-nude people, one had a pink underwear and we named him as the “Pink panther” So we begun our journey trooping in single file across the stream over an improvised plank bridge and vanish into the jungle. Had it been recorded on video it would certainly won us the title of the “Funniest people in the world”
As we entered the jungle we felt better as no prying eyes watching us for we had the cover of thick vegetation. I felt much relief as we are now in a group working as a team, a band of brothers relying on each other. When were nearing the shore we caught glimpses of our green Mx through the undergrowth. We reached the shore and waded into the mud like a religious procession going for a baptism ritual. Tay took the lead with me behind followed by Rick and Michael. We left Anuar at the shore end as the anchorman for the towline. Our tools were placed into a floating plastic container; we also brought along our ropes and the two pieces of wooden planks.
We reached the Mx by then the tide was raising fast and we begun to dismantle beginning with the rudder. By placing the two planks underneath the main wheels we found that it assisted in moving and we made some headway. We struggled using all our strength, pushing, lifting, cursing and swearing. Finally we had the tail swung around, secured it by rope and passed the line to our strongman at shore to haul in. Meantime we dismantled the nose section and Michael dragged it to shore.
At one stage we were really thirsty; the cold water brought by Michael was like a heavenly gift and we treasured it taking time sipping down leisurely. By 1300 hrs our stomachs were growling but we were still in high spirits and there were no lacking of jokes. We were thinking of good food and restaurant but how to get there. Not in our state; not acceptable they would definitely call the Police. Therefore it was decided that Anuar and myself would go to buy food.
We retraced our journey back to the van that we had parked near the stream. Drove to a small village named Koris not far from the airstrip and bought our food. On our way back we stopped by the river to hoping to find some fisherman that could assist in the salvage by sea. But nobody was around. So we returned to our buddies at the crash site with their lunch packs and we gathered on the rock boulders. As we had forgotten to take fork and spoons, everybody had to go “native” eating with our fingers or rather dirty fingers. We had no alternative but to wash in the muddy sea water; hygiene was out of question as we did not have the luxury of clean running water.
After lunch we were on the job again working even harder conveying the dismantle parts to shore. More willing hands from the kampong joined us and it was timely as the tide had already reached our waistline. The difficult part was carrying it through the jungle but luckily we had extra hands to distribute the job load. I was in the last group carrying one wing with two young Malay boys. The ground was uneven and slimy and we were from time to time slipping and falling. When we came out to the clearing our van had already left transporting earlier load. So we had to wait for the van to return and that would take some time.
Meanwhile it was getting dark as the sun was setting. The mosquitoes then appeared in strength and attacked us in an all out assault. We fought back, sawing the air with our hands, slapping our body where the mosquito had bitten. It was hopeless we were fighting a losing battle, they buzzed by our ears again and again; pressing home their mission. Finally we were saved in the nick of time when our van re-appeared. We loaded our wings and some parts that were left behind and off we went. The whole ordeal had lasted 12 hours from the time I went down up to the end of the salvage efforts.
A van was sent to pick me up and as we came to the airstrip I saw that the GT500 had already landed. The van pulled up at the hanger and a small reception party was there to greet me. Tay with the guys and the caretaker Noordin with his family were glad to see me in one piece. I was soaked in mud and the stench was over-powering. Rick was delighted to play fireman and hosed me down with a high-powered water spray gun. He was enjoying himself and apparently made me an object of fun thus entertaining those watching.
Tay immediately organized a recovery party to go and salvage the downed Mx before the in coming tide. We loaded all the things that we needed into the van, tools, ropes, planks, drinking-water and drove off. We arrived at the stream where I had earlier encountered the iguana. We disembarked and as we will have to go into the mud, all decided to strip down to only underwear. It was a terrible, unthinkable decision and most humiliating. It amounted to injuring our pride and dignity as pilots. However under such circumstances we no other alternative but to learn how to eat humble pie. I did not strip as I was already wet and saw no point in doing so. The party was comical as it consisted of a chartered accountant, an assistant manager, a government servant, a hair-stylist and a contractor. Now the scenario presented was really down right amusing; we had a group of semi-nude people, one had a pink underwear and we named him as the “Pink panther” So we begun our journey trooping in single file across the stream over an improvised plank bridge and vanish into the jungle. Had it been recorded on video it would certainly won us the title of the “Funniest people in the world”
As we entered the jungle we felt better as no prying eyes watching us for we had the cover of thick vegetation. I felt much relief as we are now in a group working as a team, a band of brothers relying on each other. When were nearing the shore we caught glimpses of our green Mx through the undergrowth. We reached the shore and waded into the mud like a religious procession going for a baptism ritual. Tay took the lead with me behind followed by Rick and Michael. We left Anuar at the shore end as the anchorman for the towline. Our tools were placed into a floating plastic container; we also brought along our ropes and the two pieces of wooden planks.
We reached the Mx by then the tide was raising fast and we begun to dismantle beginning with the rudder. By placing the two planks underneath the main wheels we found that it assisted in moving and we made some headway. We struggled using all our strength, pushing, lifting, cursing and swearing. Finally we had the tail swung around, secured it by rope and passed the line to our strongman at shore to haul in. Meantime we dismantled the nose section and Michael dragged it to shore.
At one stage we were really thirsty; the cold water brought by Michael was like a heavenly gift and we treasured it taking time sipping down leisurely. By 1300 hrs our stomachs were growling but we were still in high spirits and there were no lacking of jokes. We were thinking of good food and restaurant but how to get there. Not in our state; not acceptable they would definitely call the Police. Therefore it was decided that Anuar and myself would go to buy food.
We retraced our journey back to the van that we had parked near the stream. Drove to a small village named Koris not far from the airstrip and bought our food. On our way back we stopped by the river to hoping to find some fisherman that could assist in the salvage by sea. But nobody was around. So we returned to our buddies at the crash site with their lunch packs and we gathered on the rock boulders. As we had forgotten to take fork and spoons, everybody had to go “native” eating with our fingers or rather dirty fingers. We had no alternative but to wash in the muddy sea water; hygiene was out of question as we did not have the luxury of clean running water.
After lunch we were on the job again working even harder conveying the dismantle parts to shore. More willing hands from the kampong joined us and it was timely as the tide had already reached our waistline. The difficult part was carrying it through the jungle but luckily we had extra hands to distribute the job load. I was in the last group carrying one wing with two young Malay boys. The ground was uneven and slimy and we were from time to time slipping and falling. When we came out to the clearing our van had already left transporting earlier load. So we had to wait for the van to return and that would take some time.
Meanwhile it was getting dark as the sun was setting. The mosquitoes then appeared in strength and attacked us in an all out assault. We fought back, sawing the air with our hands, slapping our body where the mosquito had bitten. It was hopeless we were fighting a losing battle, they buzzed by our ears again and again; pressing home their mission. Finally we were saved in the nick of time when our van re-appeared. We loaded our wings and some parts that were left behind and off we went. The whole ordeal had lasted 12 hours from the time I went down up to the end of the salvage efforts.
Tay and his Quick Silver GT 500
That night Tay invited me to stay at his place and I gladly accepted. After a refreshing shower and a change of clothing I felt better. It had been a stressful day and now was the time to loosen up and relax in the comfort of a home. As I lean back on the sofa, I took time to reflect upon the whole event and firmly believe that I had escape miraculously without any physical injury. However I suffered a psychologically one and that was injury to my pride; I was the pilot downed. Obviously the One above had given me a second chance I would consider myself fortunate that I have been reborn with a new lease of life.
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