Occupational Hazards: #1 In A Series

My work involves travel. A lot. Which in and of itself is nothing special. Lots of people travel a lot for work in modern, well-serviced jet aircraft. The crucial difference in my travel is that I willingly fly over vast stretches of ocean in decrepit or dubiously serviced aircraft run by equally questionable airlines. It's what many people call "local color." I call it an occupational hazard and necessary risk to do my job.

I'm dwelling on this subject today in light of the recent tragedy this week near the South Pacific coral atoll of Moorea. Moorea is pronounced Mo-RAY-uh, not MOOR-ree-ya as in Lord of the Rings. French Polynesia's President Gaston Tong Sang has confirmed that there are no survivors among the 19 passengers and pilot aboard the Twin Otter Air Moorea aircraft which crashed between the islands of Tahiti and Moorea this week. The plane crashed shortly after take-off, around mid-day local time, from the small Moorea airstrip. It was bound for neighboring Tahiti island, but was seen suddenly descending and exploding as it hit the ocean's surface, in the nearby lagoon.

I've written here about some of the scary, white knuckle flights I've had to endure to get to some of our program sites. I'm a pretty fearless flier and it really takes something substantial to get me to break out into cold sweats while airborne. Statistically, flying is still the safest form of travel. But that statistic is skewed towards developed countries. And in every single one of our project site in a developing coral reef nation, I travel on one of those airlines where I often need to steel my nerves with a local beer before strapping in for what could very well be my last plane ride.

Some of my least favorite carriers include:

Air Niugini
This is the national airline of Papua New Guinea--and the carrier mentioned in my linked story above. They fly everything from small Twin Otter's to jet aircraft. As the nation's official airline, they sort of have a stranglehold on competition. Every so often a new airline will try to make a go, then fold since the government creates no real incentive for competition. And it's that very competition that could very well drive Air Niugini to consider such things as regular servicing of aging aircraft, or better yet replacing their entire fleet.

A recent trip on Air Niugini is sort of representative of what to expect: We boarded for a night flight from PNG to Singapore and begin the taxi down the runway when suddenly all the power fails--lights, air, engine, brakes... everything. In complete silence and darkness, we roll to a stop and sit there for perhaps 30 seconds. Then the lights blink back on, the engines begin the slow whir to power-up, and we once again taxi forward to the runway. Not a word of explanation. I begin the process of imagining this happening at 30,000 feet.

Air Fiji
It's hard to feel dread boarding an Air Fiji flight considering that they spend so much time decorating their aircraft with the most beautiful murals and designs. Yet on some of the inter-island jumps between Vanua Levu, Viti Levu, and Taveuni I've found myself dwelling on how these pretty planes might look strewn across verdant rainforest or cerulean ocean surface.

Truth be told, it's not the Air Fiji planes that scare me. They're mostly new and appear well maintained. What is frightening are the air strips used for takeoff and landings. They are often unimproved fields or loosely packed gravel runways that always appear too short. It's not uncommon to spot pigs or other "wildlife" scurrying near the airfield. Couple this with the often steep and erratic approaches needed for landings (particularly in Savusavu) and you begin to understand why a lot of people prefer the rusty, leaky inter-island ferry over flying.

Merpati Nusantara
This is one of the regular (if you can justifiably use the word "regular" in Indonesia) carriers to Sorong, gateway city to Raja Ampat, Indonesia. Geographically, Sorong is part of the island of Papua New Guinea. This area is politically part of Indonesia (formerly called Irian Jaya and now referred to as Papua). Merpati Nusantara, part of Garuda Indonesia Airlines, allegedly has flights from Bali, Jakarta, and Manado on preset days of the week, though I've found that "scheduled" flights are routinely cancelled. Often the ticket in your hand is not worth the paper it's handwritten on.

Despite other carriers to Sorong, they are sometimes the only option if your schedule requires being in or out of Sorong in a hurry. Somewhat scary Twin Otter's or Dash 8 aircraft comprise their fleet. AirDisaster.com records 10 crashes in their database between 1971 and 2001 for Merpati Nusantara. The real question is why did I need to know about a website called AirDisaster.com?

And just so it doesn't seem like I'm ragging on the Pacific, I give you my least favorite Caribbean carrier:

Tropic Air
I first experienced Belize' Tropic Air last year when I flew from Belize City to Placencia. The fleet consists mostly of Dash 8 aircraft. With my many previous Pacific experiences, I certainly had no surprise in the rather spartan aspects of the Dash. After boarding, I selected the school-bus style bench seat in the rear of the plane. The seat belts, as far as I could tell, were re-purposed car seatbelts. As the entry door closed, I noticed I could see outside through the gaps in the seal. Local color.

The Dash 8 is a loud and bouncy beast of a single prop plane. Since it was clear skies, the direct flight in to Placencia was amazing and uneventful. The flight out? Not so much. A cluster of tropical thunderstorm cells was brewing the day of departure, and I really thought we would be grounded for a few hours. Nope, Tropic Air laughs in the face of thunderstorms. With drizzles already touching my face on the walk to board the plane, I noticed the looming bruised sky to the north. The direction of Belize City.

In the air, the captain chose to fly low since visibility was poor and these aircraft have no radar. We were pelted by wind and rain but before long I noticed we were doing a fly-by to check out the runway. We descend, land on the bumpy strip, but wait... this isn't Belize City. Sadly, I was on the milk-run that had several stops before reaching Belize City. So twice more before reaching my final destination we endured bumpy takeoffs, nasty thunderstorms, crazy approaches over rainforests, and finally the calm of being on solid ground.

Does any of this make me regret my occupation or assignments. Hell no. I've survived scary flights in PNG only to land and dance with Huli Wigmen. I've been welcomed with smiles, food and traditional blessings from friendly coral reef communities like Waitabu, Fiji, after white knuckle puddle jumper flights. And the occasional bumpy, storm-ridden flights in Belize, Mexico, and Honduras means I can build greater capacity for reef stewardship along the second largest barrier reef on the planet. And I always remind myself how fortunate I am to be living out what I dreamed to be doing as a child. Life's a daring adventure or nothing at all. Now if someone could just delete the AirDisaster.com bookmark on my computer all would be perfect.