After a nice drive to the hotel in Snark’s BMW, and a good day’s rest (can’t seem to adjust to the shifting timezone), we departed again, on Christmas Eve.
Departing the city of Jakarta
Overflying those beautiful mountains
Then turning towards our destination as the sun set
On course, leveled off, autopilot set. What could go wrong?
It was probably somewhere on this dark flight that the right engine decided that its contribution to our propulsion was unnecessary.
The descent went very smoothly. I suddenly noticed we were only 50 miles out from the first waypoint of our arrival. I felt like we could descend at a higher rate this time without overspeeding (probably thanks to our right engine’s earlier decision, which still went unnoticed).
It was somewhere around this point, when I throttled up again to maintain altitude, that I was surprised I had to push full throttle to do that. Even though gear and flaps were extended, that was still an unusual amount of power.
While going down, we tried the whole sequence I did over the Strait of Malacca, as Henk was looking up the booklet. Nothing worked.
It was not until we were a few meters off the water that Henk and I looked each other in the eyes and shouted: “Airspeed above 92 knots indicated!”
The realization hit hard, but too late, and not half as hard as the surface of the Indian ocean. We were smacked against the windshield violently, but the adrenaline kept us conscious.
We quickly left the plane through the cockpit windows/doors and climbed up onto the roof with the emergency package. We used the radio to warn the emergency forces on the Island.
I realized I had failed Santa miserably. I had not just lost a plane, and possibly my life and that of a brave Dutch Coast Guard pilot, but it was all in vain. The packages were sinking, and getting wet and wasted. It was all for nothing.
I must have sat there in that mood for quite a while, beeping at the radio and rattling of all the emergency messages I knew, because when I left this weird state of consciousness, I was suddenly aware the sun had risen.
Also, Henk was chatting with a blonde on a sailing boat and voices were asnwering my monotonous request for help over the radio.
One of them was @BeachAV8R’s. I told him the approximate location on the descent where we hit the water, and he was off.
Then the other voice asked me how I felt. I fell apart and told him how it had all been for nothing and how sorry I was and what a fool to think I could just grab a plane and make such a dangerous flight.
He said: “We spoke before. In Lukla: you were much more optimistic then. You must have learned a lot on this journey, but: never lose hope! Failure is the best teacher, and by the way: have you thought about why the plane still hasn’t sunk?
I, Rudolph, realized how dangerous it would be to let you fly the packages all the way and that’s why I sent you to Bhutan. There were no more packages there, just a few helping hands who packed them safely. I thought you would either crash into a mountain or into the sea so they are all packed in 42 layers of bubble wrap. Now, be a good boy and help Henk to get them into that girl’s boat.”
So that’s what I did and why Chris found me like that
Thank you for saving me, @BeachAV8R and Rudolph!
Merry Christmas everyone! 
