TWO tales of ONE dc-3

1 · A Surprising Rescue ·  spring 1958 Chan K'in's home

I regained consciousness hearing twin radials circling above. The moment I tried to leave the hammack, dizzines engulfed me. Staggering I managed to exit the palm tree roof covering, and saw a DC-3 dissapearing beyond the jungle tree tops. I could still hear radials turning, when both engine went idle and reved-up again after a short while, making that distinctive sound of reverse pitch props: kind of beating the air. After a few more explosions silence prevailed; then all birds cheered their big brothers arrival, with a howler monkey choral orquestra. My four companions staggered out of other huts, and we all went to see who had found us in that Silver Beauty. Our first sight of the Bird was with the pilot on her left wing, his belt cheking fuel level. My companions were Europeans so I had to explain our flying conditions: very much like those in Antoine de Saint Exupéry's epoch ···"Hola, soy el Capitán García" he introduced himself "Over San Cristóbal de las Casas, they believed you were dead. Am I glad to be of service!" Loading up through those big cargo doors made me notice that DC-3 had started life as a C-47. And the bench seats inside indicated a paratroop transport, with windows. So we took off towards civilization again...straight to a hospital, after four months of being trapped in the jungle (by the worst rains ever, middle of last century) with a salt supply only enaugh for 15 days (our simple plan was for a 7 day expedition). Excess salt can be hazardous to our health: but lack of salt is DEADLY. We didn´t know at the time, monkeys have that same survival problem! When they start chewing river bank clay, it´s because that clay contains vital salt. After a few days of not restoring salt in our bodies, all minerals and vitamins start being eliminated...through sweat. And we were at 46°C (115ºF on the shadow) during four months. The Gods wanted us Alive on that one... I was 15 years old at the time. I earned my living as a hunter, supplying food to different ranch and plantation workers. (Not hunting for skins: edible animals don´t have pretty Jaguar skins.) I guided some expeditions using my connections on the area. That year (1958) the worst 20th century rain season started two months in advance ··· but that´s another story! 2 · A Long Wait ·  spring1974 It´s spring 1974 now. I´m living and working on the same jungle I survived sixteen years ago, a jungle that´s shrinking too fast. The unstopable cattle rush invasion, backed up with blind governement policies and oil extraction provoques this extinction. Here on the Sierra, the Jungle is holding up so far: terrain makes oil extraction too expensive and not enaugh flat ground for cattle pastures. I earn my living as a Barefooted (nomad & rural) Mechanic. No boot holds for long in this weather: going barefooted allows my toes to grab the floor up and down jungle paths...although most companies send for me in one engined Cessnas. (weather permiting) I arrived in "el Dos Patrias" (my 1959· Land/Rover 109· series II· pick-up truck) at Sabanilla, far from home in Oxolotán. I´m here because jungle wind said a certain Capitán García was landing his DC-3 on this airfield today. I drowned many beers on ice inside the cooler to give him a big surprise. I never had a chance to thank him after saving our lives. So I waited all day...and in the evening watch of the most glorious sunset, I heard the local news on the Land/Rover radio: "...taking off today towards his Sabanilla destination, when an engine seized up. The plane disapeared down river following the cannion. Rescue arrived afternoon, finding the copilot unhurt. But Capitán García had been nailed to his seat by a tree branch entering the windshield and his chest..." That same day, two brand new Pratt & Witney radial engines arrived at Tuxtla Gutiérrez airport, after having been sent to Brasil & back, by error. They should have arrived two months before ··· It was Capitán García's order, the replacement for his DC-3´s worn out engines. Flying on a tight budget, like Antoine de Saint Éxupery portrayed so well in his books... 3 · Flying into the Sunset·   today ··· 'los Señores de los Aires' didn´t want me to thank Capitán García: they just keep him alive in my Hart. Jean Loup