Leaving South America

Ecuador. How I hate you.

It’s been almost 18 months since my first trip southbound in a Piper Navajo named FPXL, and the beginning of a long odyssey that included as much danger, illness, injury and heartbreak as it did beauty, excitement and wonder. And while it always sounded so exotic to say “I’ve been working in South America” (in answer to the question “So what do you do for a living?”), the experience wore thin. Fast.

In summary, South America was a study in contrasts. The scenery was amazing, the people were friendly and energetic, and the experience of flying in Equatorial airspace was educational to say the least. We had our own apartments with air conditioning and a little hot tub on the patio, feeling nice and secure behind an electrified fence. The local coffee was delicious and the local beer was cheap. We couldn’t say we were lacking for anything, except clear sky under which to actually complete the contract.

But, on the opposite side, our team collectively experienced armed robbery and kidnapping in a taxi, allergic reactions to anti-malarial medication, altitude sickness, injury, and governmental stupidity (in a foreign language). My lungs ached from the dry breathing oxygen while flying at 21,000 feet in an unpressurized Aztec (that airplane was simply never meant to be up that high). The job became more and more frustrating as client pressure increased and the months went by with no work.

The snapping point occurred was when I slipped and fell off the Aztec’s wing, broke two toes and split my knee wide open. The dull fear of what lay ahead while I was being rushed to an Ecuadorean hospital in a bouncy ambulance overshadowed what physical pain I should have been feeling (for the record, the private hospital I ended up in was clean and modern, and the entrance to emergency resembled a fancy hotel lobby. The plastic surgeon who stitched me back together was top-notch. Highly recommended). I was stuck in the apartment in Ecuador for the next month, leg stuck in a straight position and unable to walk without crutches. I was not permitted to fly home on a commercial airliner on account of not being able to bend my knee enough to get into a seat. It was most depressing 30 days I have ever experienced.

So I’m done with you, Ecuador. Get me out of here.