Myself and GIBBO watch as Klarsnow’s burner cans disappear into the evening haze. After a short while Gibbo suggests we avoid Ecuadoran airspace on the way back, just to be safe. I reply that I’ve seen enough to last me a life time if it comes to that, I’d just as soon not return.
While we chat, the weather over the Andes has worsened. Haze has thickened, as have the clouds as moist air tries mightily to lift itself over the massive impediment in its way. In the back of my head I hear my father’s wise words about avoiding clouds with rocks in them, so just to be sure I raise the altitude another eight thousand feet. As we do, it’s time to begin our search for the tanker.
I hear Gibbs squeal with delight as he fires off the massive AWG-9. True to it’s reputation as being the biggest gorram dish in the sky, it quickly begins returning contacts. Our tanker is the one at 24,000 heading the same way we are.
As we approach, the Gibber puts the radar into STT, probably giving the boom operator and everyone within 100 miles cancer. Sorry, not sorry. Just for extra awesomeness, I tell my Gibbo to flip the TCS into NAR FOV.
enhance
A silhouette slowly emerges from the murky green darkness…
Tally ho! ID’d as gas station.
Making nice with Tanker bro. I tell my crestfallen RIO he needs to shut down the radar, lest a stray photon ignite the gas and blow us all up. He begrudgingly agrees.
And it’s about here I realize we’ve made a terrible mistake. That weather I was talking about? Air rushing up? It did not occur to me until I tried to plug into a flailing garden hose at night that if I’m in that turbulent air, it makes air to air refueling very turbulent. Not helping things are the fact my Tomcat is very light, and it’s dark outside.
almost
After many tries, snickering from the boom operator (get back to me in 20 years dude, see whose laughing), and ample frustration we get the required gas, and settle on the tankers wing for the remaining flight into Lima. Well acquainted after a week of debauch, myself and the tanker driver trade small talk. He asks if I dealt with the goat in our hotel room, I assure him I did (I did not). We trade “fishing” stories from the beach, much to the chagrin of the female co-pilot. I’m pretty sure Gibbo’s got a thing for her, so I let him get as much broadcast time as he pleases.
After the stress of tanking, it’s a sedate night flight south. The F-14’s cockpit provides great visibility, and I can’t help but feel I’ve got the best seat in the world as I watch clouds and mountains slide past on either side, all presided over by an audience of brilliant stars.
Also that’s a big ol’ mountain.
All things must end though, sooner than expected we’re flying over the Peruvian capital. Since my jet has the least gas, and is less likely to level three city blocks if it crashes, I’m given clearance to land first and get out of the way. The tower warns me of turbulence, and I make note as I break away from the tanker.
Cutting north back towards SPJC between the cloud layers. I can feel the turbulence starting to pick up as I descend.
Tower gives me vectors for a right hand traffic pattern as I pass over Lima at night. The turbulence is rapidly becoming a factor
The turbulence is a factor. As I line up for final I’m thrown up and down as I pass through the thermals. My airspeed jumps and crashes by 20 knots at a time, completely negating my AOA indexer. I see I’m low, but this is rapidly going from an instrument to a Kentucky windage landing.
A gust of wind knocks me to the right short of touch down, and I’m descending faster than I like, but I’m committed.
Touchdown was rough, but nothing seems broken, and the jet taxi’s fine. SPJC hands me off to ground, and I radio a warning to the tanker as I taxi for parking.
We pop the canopy as the engines wind down, and let the cool-ish night air wash over us. Another leg of our trip is complete, and I need a drink. I’m sad to have completed what will probably be the most exciting portion of the trip as well. The next few days entail marathon over water flights, with nothing but Gibbo and the tanker crew to keep company.