Chapter 4

The new day broke, but still it was dark, misty and a golden-brown light tinted all around in an eerie glow. The smoke was thick all around, and it was difficult to breathe. The wind was down to ten knots gusting to thirteen knots. Difficult, but flyable.

With my morning wake-up juice in my favourite mug, I stepped out onto the patio of my log cabin.

“Morning Louis! You ready to fly?” Jeff called from next-door.

“Smoke looks thick, and the airport might be locked down due to visibility,” I responded.

“So, how far do you need to see for a vertical lift-off?” he smirked.

“You got a point. But let me call the JOC and get their take. If WOF and Air Force fly, we fly.”

“Finish the mug of poison first.”

“You not going for your morning run?”

“In this muck? It’s better to sit down next to your darn pipe and inhale your smoke!” he shot back.

I laughed. “Let me hear what JOC has to say,” and I pulled out my cell phone to call the Joint Operations Centre.

The call was answered on the third ring. Yes, WOF will fly at 07:15. SANDF will join at 08:00.

“Where do you need us?” I asked. We were operating independent of WOF and SANDF and therefore took our lead directly from the JOC.

“The fire west of Knysna has crossed the Knysna river and is threatening the urban areas on the outskirts of Knysna. WOF and SANDF will concentrate their water bombing in those areas, and we are evacuating people from Green Pastures, Knysna Heights and Westville,” The fire chief told me. “If you can fly field crews into the LZ and take citizens out, it will be appreciated.”

“Right! We’ll drop a fire crew at the LZ in Green Pastures, pick up some civilians and fly them out to Plett. And repeat the mission. Fire crew in, civilians out. I take it the roads are still closed?”

“Yes! Only Fire and Rescue as well as SAPS and emergency vehicles allowed. Oh, and there will be another private contractor in the air. You can’t miss him. Bright white Sikorsky Blackhawk helicopter with a yellow band around the tail. Tail number ZT-RGA.”

“Gee whiz! A Blackhawk! Where did he steal that one?”

“He bought and imported it. Its one of only two Blackhawks in the world that’s in private hands, and the only one in South Africa! It was mainly for fire-fighting in the Sabie and Nelspruit areas. But now Leading Edge Aviation has pitched in with us.”

“I’ll look out for him. Get the first fire crew to stand by; we’ll be with you in forty minutes,” I said and ended the call. Dammit! A Blackhawk. I want one!

Now this was interesting getting the tail-number of the Blackhawk. It told me that it was a reactively new rotorcraft registration. In South-Africa, all aircraft were registered with the ZS prefix, until recently, when a distinction was made. ZS, for all fix-wing aircraft, ZT for type certified rotorcraft and ZU for non-type certified craft like home-builds and drones.

Older registrations of rotorcraft retained the ZS prefix and was not required to re-register. That’s why most of the WOF helicopters, as well as the Puma still retained their old registrations.

While I was on the phone Jeff locked his cabin and came over to join me on my patio.

“Okay, change of plan,” I informed him. “The fire is spreading into the outskirts of western Knysna. We will fly fire-fighters in and evacuate the civilians.”

“Okay, with the seats out of the Puma cabin, they will have to sit on the floor.”

“It’s better that way. Instead of only ten, we can fit twenty to twenty-five of them.”

The Puma was not configured in “airline” mode, but in VIP mode. That means ten plush leather seats, which were removed for cargo space and stored in the equipment container next to Jenny’s office.

“Half tanks of fuel, which will give us an hour and a half, but will save weight, so we could airlift more people.”

“So, every hour and a half we refuel. No problem,” I stated.

“Well, I’ll go check the bird and tell the ground crew. You can go and enlighten our other ground crew, Jenny and company,” Jeff chuckled.

“Yeah ... And, Jeff, four hours each. I fly the first four hours, then you take over. Okay,” I asked.

“I was about to suggest it. You can’t go on flying like yesterday. You’ll burn yourself out.”

“And we take a lunch break at 12:00,” I said and made off to my bakkie. That is one thing Jeff and I agreed on. Each one of us drives to work in our own vehicle to give us flexibility to run an errand, and still leave the other with transport.

“Right!” he replied and went to his own bakkie.

A mixture of grey, brown, and black smoke covered the airport in a rolling, swirling mass, obscuring everything. Visibility was down to near one hundred metres.

“Are you going to fly in this muck?” Jenny asked, the distress obvious in her body language.

“Don’t fret, Jenny! We have the weather radar, the ground radar and the FLIR. Between the three systems we will be okay.”

“And the wind?”

“As long as it stays as it is, we’ll be fine. But we need to get those people out. Pronto!”

“Yeah, the Air Force pilot blood is still running strong in your veins...” she sighed.

“Jenny, it’s not the Air Force blood, it’s what has to be done. I have a tool to do it, and the blessing from HQ, so, let’s do it.”

“Go! Do what has to be done.”

“Here ... It’s not a trail mix of high protein and energy boosters, but it is something,” Bobbie said as she handed me a brown paper-bag with nuts, and a bottle of water. “And here is one for Uncle Jeff too.”

“Thanks, Bobs. It will come in handy! Now, look after Jenny.” And I made my way out of the office to the helicopter. This will be another long day.

The landing zone was just on the north-western side of the Knysna lagoon. There was an open field, but the gradient of the ground was about fifteen to twenty degrees down towards the north. Not good. I did not want to risk low spinning rotor blades that could hurt someone gravely.

The fire crew knows the drill of disembarking the chopper, but the civilians could just get themselves decapitated by the spinning main rotors. The helicopter blades are high off the ground, but on a sloping ground the rotor disk tries to keep level and that means that on the upward part of the ground, it spins just feet off the ground.

“Juliet One Seven, Whirly Bird,” Jeff transmitted on the ground frequency.

“Whirly Bird, this is Juliet One Seven, go.”

“One seven, advise you move the Lima Zulu towards the shore road, one hundred and fifty meters to your left. The slope gradient is over limits for us, and the trees are too close.”

“Juliet One Seven, roger, Whirly Bird. We move now. Juliet One Seven, out.”

“Right, let’s circle the LZ and then go in on the shore road,” I told Jeff.

“Roger that. While they move the civilians towards the shore road, let’s land and get this fire crew out,” Jeff replied.

I flew us out over the lagoon, then circled back towards the land. Several boats and launches were on the water. I suppose those who have access to boats will use them to evacuate as the roads are closed.

It was curious that some boats were going towards Belvedere Estate on the western shore of the Knysna lagoon, while a lot more were sailing towards Leisure Island in the east of the lagoon.

The wind was from the north and veering towards the north-west. Gusts of wind played havoc with the flight path of the helicopter, and I was dancing on the rudder pedals to keep her in line with my intended course.

The road followed the shore and was relatively level. I chose a part of the road where it turned towards the north, to minimize the cross wind when we landed. I could just about keep the nose into the wind and touch down. Still with the gusts of wind coming through, the helicopter tried to weather cock to the right. The wind was high, and I need to get these people out with speed. There was a real risk that the wind could increase and make it unflyable for us.

Jeff got the fire crew out and by the time the fire fighting vehicles came to fetch them, about sixty to seventy civilians came staggering through the smoke and smog that the wind was blowing over the lagoon and over the hill.

Juliet One Seven was on hand and herded the civilians away from the helicopter.

“Juliet One Seven, Whirly Bird,” Jeff transmitted.

“Whirly Bird, go!”

“What have those civilians with them? It looks like cats in carriers and dogs on leashes.”

“Whirly Bird, they brought all sorts of things that are dear to them. There’re some birds in cages too.”

“Okay, One Seven, bring ten at a time in single file. Left-hand back door of the bird will be open.”

“Whirly Bird, are you taking twenty at a time?”

“Depends on all the stuff with them but load up twenty. Keep families together if you can.”

“Rodger, Whirly Bird. First batch incoming.”

“Good. Keep them in sight of the cockpit! If the pilot can see them, all is well.”

And so, the loading of the first twenty pax was completed, and they were instructed to sit down on the floor of the back cabin. Twenty minutes after our landing, we were off the ground for the fifteen-minute flight to the JOC location and safety for the people.

It took six more flights, as while we were away more people joined the evacuation line. We flew people, cats, dogs, a goat and even some chickens out.

With an eye on the fuel gauge, I was in a hurry to get us back to the airport. It took us just over three hours, and one refuelling, to get everyone near Knysna Heights out to safety. We usually keep three quarters of fuel on the helicopter, to be ready for any eventuality, but we were working on a half tank to let us take more people, thus only one and a half hour of safe flying.

With just fumes in the tanks we landed back at the airport. As our wheels touched, the ground crew was on hand with the fuel bowser to refuel the helicopter, and the bird was thirsty.

I removed my helmet and dropped into a chair in Jenny’s office, grunting.

“That bad?” Jenny asked while a wide-eyed Bobbie stood to the side, biting the nails of her right hand.

“The wind is outrageous!” Jeff confirmed, “Louis must be dead on his feet.”

“No, I’ll just rest up for twenty minutes, and then we go out again,” I protested.

“This time, I’ll fly!” Jeff insisted.

“Okay...” I sighed.

“Here, get some sammies,” Bobbie said as she handed Jeff and me each a plate of ham and cheese sandwiches. “Coffee will be around shortly. Uncle Jeff, there’s a fresh pot of Rooibos tea for you.”

“Thanks, Bobbie! I appreciate it.”

Jenny’s telephone rang, and she grabbed it, nearly ripping it off the desk.

“Phoenix Air Services, Missus Pienaar speaking...” pause. “Yes, they landed.” pause. “Okay...” pause. “Right. I’ll tell them. Thanks for the update. Bye...” And she replaced the receiver.

“Who was that?” Jeff asked.

“The tower. All air traffic is suspended. WOF and SANDF are recovering to George and here. Wind speed is up to seventy kilometres an hour gusting to eighty.”

“Dammit! That’s thirty-seven to forty-three knots!” Jeff said, then looked over to Bobbie. “Sorry, Miss Bobbie...”

“It’s Okay, Uncle Jeff,” She giggled and blushed.

“Gale force wind, force eight on the Beaufort wind force scale,” I said. “We might be done for the day. Jenny, phone and tell the ground crew to safeguard the chopper, tie it down, and move it between the hangars, please.”

“I’m calling them...” Jenny said and reached for her phone. I got up, coffee in hand, and turned to look out the window towards the north-west.

A thick smoke cloud was misting over the trees out towards the airport boundary fence, driven hard by the wind. Even the trees were bending and swaying in the wind. Someone had taken the windsock down in fear of it being torn off its fasteners.

Towards Knysna, or where I thought Knysna was, the sun was completely blotted out, and an eerie orange glow tinted the smoke clouds. It looked like most of the town was on fire.

There was a burning sensation in my nose due to the smoke billowing across the town of Plettenberg Bay. Everywhere one goes, the smell of the fire persisted. There was no getting away from it.

“Look at all the smoke! I’m scared...” Bobbie said next to me. “The fire is driven this way by the wind.”

“Let me tell you a secret, Bobbie, I’m scared too,” I said. “I’m scared that I won’t be able to help those stranded people out there ... You should have seen those people Jeff and I took out of Green Pastures today. They had all sorts of things with them. Cats, dogs, even a goat. There was one little girl clutching a ragged teddy bear to her chest. The fear on their faces was not something I want to see again.”

“Mister Louis, you and Uncle Jeff did good. Aunt Jen and I heard that the fire spread into the suburbs and houses were burned to the ground,” Bobbie softly said, the distress in her voice clearly evident.

“The National Sea Rescue Institute scrambled their boats to evacuate people from the beach at Brenton-on-Sea...” Jenny said.

“That’s the boats I saw today from the air,” I replied.

“Everyone that can, tries to help. Now, eat your sammies. You need your strength.” Bobbie cajoled and placed a small hand on my arm. “Tonight, I’ll see to it that you and Uncle Jeff get a decent meal.”

“Thanks, Bobs, but I have makings at the cabin. Besides, I’m not that hungry.”

“That’s the problem! You eat stuff that is not healthy. So, let me and Aunt Jen see to it that you eat good.”

“I don’t think Jeff will be around tonight, but thanks for the offer.”

“And why won’t I be around?” Jeff challenged.

“Because you’re going for fruit juice somewhere in town,” I hit back, and Jeff snorted.

“Yeah, you come over tonight anyway,” Jenny directed her comment to me, “John asked anyway why you are so scarce. He’s got a new model aircraft he made and wants to show it to you.”

“Okay! You two convinced me,” I sighed, and Bobbie giggled. “By the way, Jenny, what happened to the cargo ship? Should it not have been here today?” I asked over my shoulder.

“It turned back to the harbour in Port Elizabeth. The seas were too heavy, and the skipper did not want to risk the wait out on the open sea.”

“Yeah, the swells are pretty high, about three metres,” Jeff remarked. “We would not have been able to get the sling loads off anyway. And yes! I’ll be going for a fruit juice and a nice meal with a friend.”

Both Jenny and I chuckled. Bobbie giggled.

There was a knock on the door to Jenny’s office, and we all looked towards the door. At first, I did not recognise the blond woman at the door, but Jeff reacted, nearly spilling his mug of Rooibos tea.

This time she looked completely different. Her blond hair was without any hairspray, tied in a ponytail that came just past her shoulders, and her makeup was done with a light touch. There were no postbox-red lips, and her nails were plain, no polish. She looked younger than her forty-five years.

“Sue! What a surprise!” Jeff exclaimed and got up. “Please come in.”

“Hello, you guys. I just came by to ask a question,” she said as she walked in.

“Well fire away,” Jeff replied, stepping towards Sue, taking her arm, and guiding her to a chair. “Please sit down. Tea for you?”

“Why thank you, Jeff. That will be nice...”

Jenny looked at me and with a smile on her face, then winked at me and turned to Sue.

“There’s coffee too, if you prefer?”

“No, tea will be good, thanks.”

“So, what brings you to our humble offices?” I asked.

“This ... This disaster in Knysna...”

“Yeah,” Jeff sighed. “It took us all by surprise...”

“It has been coming for months now...” she sighed and took a mug of tea from Jeff. “Hmm ... Rooibos. My favourite.”

“Why do you say that, Miss Sue?” Jenny asked, addressing Sue as Miss, and not Missus.

“Well, foresters have been fearful for a while of just this happening. The area has been experiencing an extended period of extremely warm weather, and rainfall in the previous months had been well below average. Humidity was particularly low, soil moisture was depleted and vegetation was showing signs of severe drought. However, in the week preceding this fire, it appeared like a cut-off low was forming, which everyone expected to bring significant rain and floods, so much so that schools in the Western Cape were told to close for the day before, during and after the low-pressure system would manifest itself, and play out,” she explained. Now the frontal system has hit Cape Town, and we just got the high winds, no rain.

“You know a lot about the environment, Sue,” Jeff stated, raising an eyebrow at her.

“I’m not just a waitress and a bartender, Jeff, I have other interests as well,” she replied and closed her eyes, looking sad and emotionally drained. “I have a degree in forest management, forestry, and environmental studies. These days, I guess you could call me an environmentalist; someone who cares for the environment...”

Jeff just sat, looking at Sue with his mouth gaping open.

“But how come you waitress, and play a barmaid? Surely there’re good jobs for you around this area for your qualifications?” he asked, still taken aback by her revelation. But that was nothing compared to his reaction to her next one.

She chuckled. “The Lunch Box and O’Halley’s are just a sideline for me, Jeff. It takes up my time and keeps me occupied in the many hours that I don’t spend on my plantations that are now burned to ash!”

“YOUR plantations?”

“Yes, my plantations. I had seventy-five hectares of indigenous wood and other wood growing plantations near Elandskraal at Sedgefield. That’s in the vicinity where the fire started.”