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January 1987 Newsletter
COLOMBIAN CHRISTIAN MISSION
Dale and Jeanie Meade
In the jungle and prairie of Southeastern Colombia
Volume 15, Issue 1 January, 1987
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IN GOD'S CARE
While we generally do not work with the Indian tribes here in Colombia, we have one of our preachers who has felt that calling. We have cooperated with him by hauling him and his supplies to the Wycliffe base in the airplane. They then help him get on out into the jungle as well as providing the literature for distribution.
He recently make a trip and I had taken him out. When the time arrived to pick him up, I arranged to haul out a load of supplies to be left at the base. The flight down began with the normal red tape of passing police inspection. I was behind schedule and was anxious to get airborne. Finally they approved my flight plan and I took off. Nearly an hour later I circled the Wycliffe base and came in for a landing. There was another member of the Bogota church who was there. He wanted a ride back into town. One of my passengers was a child, but with the luggage I was loaded to near capacity. I explained that even though there appeared to be room, the weight would not permit it. "Every other pilot does it," he pleaded. I apologized but firmly refused to overload the plane. While he was correct, the plane would haul extra weight, in an emergency the results could be fatal. Little did I know at that time the prophetic nature of my own warning.
We said out goodbyes and climbed into the plane. We said a prayer and as always placed ourselves in God's care. With the engine running I taxied out to the end of the runway, ran through the preflight checklist, and began the takeoff roll. Since the plane was heavy it lifted off well down the runway and climbed slowly. I began to relax and settle into what I expected to be a routine flight. Just then, with no warning, the engine quit. I could not believe it. I was at low altitude and low airspeed. That was absolutely the most dangerous time to have engine failure. It would be only a matter of seconds until impact. I did not have enough altitude to attempt a return to the landing strip only a few hundred yards behind us. I had no choice but to put the plane down in the rough hills that surrounded the base. As we silently glided down I tried to watch my airspeed, maneuver towards the best-looking hillside, and figure out what had gone wrong. In well-maintained airplanes, the engines are simply not supposed to quite. I though about a crash landing and the possibility of destroying our beautiful little Cessna that had served us so well. I did not have time to carry that thought process to it's logical conclusion and think of what might happen to me or my passengers.
Then, instinctively I began to do what I had been trained to do. I started through my emergency check list. I checked the fuel tank selector. It was all right. I hit the switch for the backup fuel pump. The dependable Continental engine caught immediately and roared to life. The surge of power lifted the plane over the small hill. With power I began a sharp turn pack to the airport. As I completed the turn, the engine quit again. But now I was headed toward a suitable landing sight. But my altitude was still dangerously low. We cleared the threshold, just barely. I flared and settled gently onto the landing strip. The plane rolled to a stop. For the first time I had time to think about how close we came to crashing.
I sat there for a minute and then restarted the engine. We taxied back to the hanger to the waiting group of concerned onlookers. I climbed out of the plane and my knees began to shake. The full implications of what had happened began to sink in. The Wycliffe mechanics began to tear into the engine to look for the problem. After about two hours of work, the plane was ready to go. I took it up by myself for a test flight and when everything seemed all right I landed to load up my passengers. Again we prayed for protection, maybe with a little more fervor this time.
The trip back to Villavicencio was uneventful. But I climbed higher than normal for such a short trip. I wanted more time to consider the options if the engine should again decide to quit. I held my altitude until I was on a long final approach. We landed, secured the plane, and headed for town. As I drove, I thanked the Lord for His care. And then I promised Him I would never again complain about a flight being boring.
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A colonial church in a quaint little town.