Lyle Turner
Box 8020
Garden City, New York 11530
Phone-858-603-3483
e-mail-lyleturner@mac.com
First Serial Rights
2457 words
Journey to The End of the World
Three Adventurers, a Single Engine Turboprop, and One Damn Big Continent
By
L.C. Turner
After a half a dozen beers it didn’t sound dangerous. After a few more it sounded like the
best idea ever. But in a dark Costa Rican jungle, during a monsoon downpour brightened by
candles and beer, there’s no danger. There are no bad ideas.
Emboldened by the gods of fermentation, egged on by Zach, Andy crooned, “You keep
bragging about that plane of yours; I say we load up the boards and fly down to Patagonia. We
can surf all the way down and back.”
Every night we spent in that jungle cottage, Easter weekend 2003, the trip got longer and
bolder. By the time the truck picked us up, three days later, his taunt had turned into a two month
odyssey to circumnavigate the entire continent, visit seven countries, and fly over thousands of
miles of Amazonian jungle and open ocean, a journey of 24,000 miles, enough to circle the earth.
A journey like that, in a single engine plane, was filled with risks.
I had seen alcohol give birth to a million dreams in my fifty years, then watched them die
like vampires in the light of day. But a year later I turned my single engine plane toward the
“Fin del Mundo”, the end of the world, the southernmost tip of South America. It carried three
guys, their surfboards, several hundred pounds of camping, fishing, diving, and photography
Turner
End of the World
equipment, and of course, twelve cases of microbrew, in case we ran out of good ideas.
I didn’t know Zach or Andy before we flew down to Cabo Mato Palo to surf over that
long Easter weekend. Zach Mcduffie, an avant garde artist/surfer with a pony tail down to the
middle of his back, owned the Escuela del Mundo, the School of the World. The school offered
classes in Spanish, surfing, art, photography and ecology.
I flew my plane, a Pilatus PC-12, to Costa Rica to study Spanish and surfing at Zach’s
school. I was on a two-year walkabout (a journey of self discovery) using my plane like a
camper.
Andy Horne, a friend of Zach’s, came to Costa Rica, from an unsatisfying market
research job in Atlanta, to study photography at Zach’s school. He was looking for a way to
travel on the cheap and get enough photos for a portfolio. A plane with empty seats and room
for surfboards was the answer to his prayers.
Zach listened while Andy questioned me about how far my plane could go, how much
weight it could carry, and how fast it flew. He stayed silent when Andy bragged, “Zach and I are
going South America next spring .”
Zach hadn’t had a real vacation for seven years, since he moved to Costa Rica from
Atlanta, and founded the school. The pressures of starting and running a small business left him
little free time.
2
Turner
End of the World
As we relaxed in our cottage on the beach after our flight together, the full impact of what
my plane could do was hitting Andy. It carries six people and baggage 2,000 miles at 300 miles
per hour and lands on dirt strips. The five foot wide cargo door makes it easy to load camping
gear, surfboards, guitars, diving gear, and mountain bikes for any kind of adventure. It’s a flying
Suburban.
We all spoke loudly to compete with the rivers of rain falling onto our tin roof. The
lantern and candles cast just enough light to see bodies in hammocks with hands outstretched to
catch the cooling rain pouring off the roof. Occasionally someone fooled around with my guitar
while Andy pecked away at a plan for South America.
Once Andy and Zach got me wound up I reverted to the CEO persona that I had honed
over a 15-year career.
I needed maps to plan a route, an itinerary to get flight and landing permission from each
of the countries, survival equipment for jungle and open ocean emergencies, emergency
communications equipment for both scenarios, inoculations, and insurance that would cover me
anywhere in the western hemisphere. If I couldn’t get insurance we couldn’t go. Finally, I had to
3
Turner
End of the World
figure out a way to get and pay for jet fuel. Experience in Mexico had taught me that cash
worked best but I worried that carrying thousands in cash was not safe.
Of course the plane had to be in perfect working order with its navigational databases
updated to include South America. Single pilot single engine operations have very little margin
for error.
By the end of that Easter weekend we were targeting the slow time for Zach’s school the
following April and May and we all had our assignments. I was in charge of the plane,
navigation, logistics, and safety. Andy was itinerary and gear and Zach was photography and
video production.
I flew low along the beach all the way back to Esterillo Este, the dirt strip surrounded by
jungle, where we had started four days earlier. Tall trees at the ends of the runway made it a
challenging landing but smooth enough to elicit applause and cheers from the back of the plane.
However, as I taxied into my old parking space my front wheel rolled into a puddle. The
nose dropped and my spinning propeller grazed the ground.
Dirt flew back over the airplane and my stomach sank. My plane was a turboprop, a jet
engine turns the propeller. The engine has to be torn down and examined with a microscope if
the propeller touches anything solid while it’s running. My prop had hit the ground hard enough
to rip three inches of metal off each of the four blades.
4
Turner
End of the World
I fought to remain calm as we unloaded the plane then followed Zach and Andy to a local
surf bar. When I pulled up to the table I couldn’t hide my anguish.
I was spiraling into depression wondering out loud how I was going to get my engine and
propeller removed out there in the jungle, shipped to the factory, inspected, repaired, shipped
back, and put back on my plane, along with a new propeller.
I was a crushed man. My plane was my home. My walkabout was over. I left the bar
early, too sick and depressed to eat or drink. I needed to be alone in case I cried.
The next day the news got worse. My insurance didn’t cover an accident in Costa Rica.
There were no propellers available for my plane and no one knew when more might be
manufactured. Finally, no one knew how to get the engine off and shipped to Pratt and Whitney,
the manufacturer. And Pratt couldn’t tell me when I could get it back without knowing how
extensive the damage was.
Courage and perseverance have a magical talisman, before which difficulties
disappear and obstacles vanish into air.
5
Turner
End of the World
John Quincy Adams
Ten weeks later I had a rented jet engine, two mechanics from the States, an extra prop
from Switzerland, and a prop specialist from Miami, all loaded on a Costa Rican UPS truck
headed for my plane.
Twenty-four hours later, while the mechanics took everything apart, I got a crane down
into the jungle to swap the new engine for the old and load the old one onto the UPS truck
headed for a flight to Canada.
The next morning I sat alone in the cockpit with the new engine at full power. The plane
rocked, shook, and strained against a pile of stones and locked brakes. Twelve hundred
frightened horsepower struggled to escape the jungle strip that had been its prison for ten weeks.
The plane was positioned at the end of the gravel strip. I nervously watched the gauges,
listened, and waited for unusual sounds or vibrations. After five minutes, the mechanics, outside
at a safe distance, gave me the thumbs up. I returned the signal and reduced the power.
They pulled the rocks from in front of the wheels and gave me another thumbs up. The
batteries didn’t have enough juice for another start. I had to take off immediately.
As I started my roll down the runway Zach and Andy pulled up, parked, and jumped out
to wave good-bye.
I don’t think any of us ever thought we would see each other again. At that moment I
was like Dorothy clicking her ruby slippers together chanting, “There’s no place like home,
there’s no place like home.”
But Andy couldn’t let it go.
All men dream, but not equally. Those who dream by night in the dusty recesses
6
Turner
End of the World
of their minds, wake in the day to find that it was vanity: but the dreamers of the
day are dangerous men, for they may act on their dreams with open eyes, to make
them possible.
Thomas Edward Lawrence
I flew straight to Denver to have the rental engine removed and shipped back to Pratt and
Whitney.
The plane would be out of commission until Pratt examined, repaired, and shipped my
engine to Denver. I didn’t know how long that would take. I didn’t care. The plane was safe and
I was headed to Alaska for a three month 2,500 mile bicycle ride.
As I rode my bicycle through the vast Arctic north that summer I kept getting e-mails
from Andy, about the trip, as if nothing had happened and everything was on track. He made me
promise to come visit after my bike trip.
By the time I finished my bike trip the plane was fixed so I flew back to Costa Rica
where Zach and Andy got me excited again.
I agreed to return to Costa Rica in December to develop a final itinerary and set the actual
dates. Then left to update my flight skills and get a commercial pilots license, hoping it would
make insurance cheaper and easier to get.
When I returned to Costa Rica for Christmas we scheduled our departure for the day after
Easter Sunday 2004, the anniversary of the accident. Then I headed to Canada to do the final
logistical preparations and ski.
Between January and the end of March nearly everything except the insurance came
together, and since my last surf trip with these guys had cost me $150,000 insurance could be a
trip killer.
7
Turner
End of the World
Andy finished the itinerary. I updated my flight planning software, located the
appropriate airports, and received the permits needed. The life vests, raft, and supplies for jungle
or ocean crash landings arrived.
Everyone got their camping, surfing, and diving gear, and Zach got the video equipment
and software organized.
The insurance confirmation didn’t arrive until the day before I was supposed to fly down
to Costa Rica to pick Zach and Andy up.
Departure Day
When Andy opened his front door Zach walked past him without saying anything, skirted
the waist high pile of camping, fishing, surfing, diving, and photography equipment, and headed
straight for me. I was sitting at the kitchen table ignoring Andy’s questions because I didn’t want
to repeat what I needed to say.
They both knew something was up because I was seven hours late to pick them up for the
airport.
My stammer gave away the gravity, “I, uh, I mean the plane, uh, I mean, we have a
problem. Last night flying from Acapulco I lost my auxiliary generator. I don’t feel safe flying
over open-ocean or trackless jungle without a backup and I can’t find anyone here that I trust to
work on my plane.”
Both Zach and Andy had bragged to all of their friends that they were leaving today. The
thought of postponing the trip for an unknown length of time was too painful to bear.
“So what are you saying?” Zach asked, knowing he didn’t want to hear the answer.
8
Turner
End of the World
“I’m saying I think the safest and smartest thing to do is fly back to Denver and get it
fixed before we take off on a long and dangerous flight. I think I can be back within a week to
pick you guys up.”
Zach and Andy’s anguish was obvious as they explained how their friends had given
them a series of going away parties over the last few nights. How they suffered through their
friend’s airplane disaster stories. How they had been taunted that day with statements like,” The
plane’s broken down and you haven’t even left?”
As they tormented me with reasons why they couldn’t tell anyone they were still in town,
I got an idea. “There is one more option,” I said. “We could pack up and leave right now, fly to
Denver together, get the plane fixed then fly straight to Venezuela. “ If you come with me now
we don’t have to come back to Costa Rica”.
There was absolutely no discussion. Zach said, “I’ll be ready in five minutes” as he
headed for the door. Andy started moving right behind him muttering something about having
his stuff loaded in the truck by the time Zach biked home.
I could feel the adrenaline as I offered to call Denver, get the parts ordered, and change
the flight plans to fly over Cuba when we crossed the Caribbean. I yelled after Zach, “We’ll be at
your place in ten minutes.” But he was already out of hearing range.
Within a half hour we were driving towards San Jose Airport giggling like school-girls.
The drama of having a year’s worth of plans smashed by a mechanical problem accentuated the
rush we experienced when we realized we were actually leaving. Everything was hilarious.
Everything was great.
Twenty-four hours later Zach and Andy celebrated their first visit to Acapulco in a strip
club guarded by midgets in camouflage outfits.
9
Turner
End of the World
Twenty-four hours after that, we were in Denver making a grocery list while the plane
was repaired. The list included 12 cases of beer.
Twenty-four hours after that, we were happily flying over the coast of Florida sipping
cold microbrew, (at least Zach and Andy were) basking in the pink and golden light of sunset.
I was a little nervous as I flew into the darkness over the Atlantic. I had never flown over
the ocean or attempted a night landing on an island. The thought of searching for a tiny little
speck of land in what appeared to be the infinite blackness ahead was a bit unnerving. Sort of
like crossing the Amazon Basin, or landing at strange airports where the controllers didn’t speak
English, crossing the Andes, or any of the other unknowns ahead.
That’s what made it so glorious. We were headed south across the Caribbean then down
the east coast of South America all the way to Tierra del Fuego, the end of the world. The great
adventure we dreamed up and worked toward for a year had finally begun.
The End
10