Jungle Mart

The parts plane near El Corazon. You can see one of the poles we used once to hoist some flight surfaces off of the left wing.

Back at El Corazon the smell of marinated pork roasting over an open fire finds its way to my nostrils as I check Abby’s hydraulic lines for leaks and security, then go to the gear actuators and do the same. There are several check valves in the system that might be bad. Before long I have checked them and find the culprit. Now to find a replacement.
Supplies for Abby are not plentiful on a commercial basis. The DC-3 hadn’t seen production for over 50 years, and parts were hard to come by. There were, however, several ways to find parts for her. An internet search and a long wait while the parcel made its way down to a suitable pick up point would not do. We would have to go to the “Jungle Mart” and find our part.
Jerry keeps a list of planes, a treasure map of sorts, that didn’t quite make their last sortie. They are lost to most people, some at the bottom of a canyon or two, others lost to the jungle in a spray of ferns and fronds. But Jerry has them mapped with GPS coordinates that takes us to the very spot.
In the old days, the DC-3 and its military counterpart, the C47, were in plentiful supply and inexpensive to fly. They were the drug runner’s plane of choice. The dangers of the profession provide plenty of options for parts from crashed planes.
The crude airstrip here at El Corazon was used many times before we ever showed up. On the approach for several miles back are a couple of examples of what not to do when you are overloaded and don’t have a mechanic like me keeping your plane flying. Jerry knew one of the pilots personally. He is the one who survived and gave Jerry the “deed” to the airstrip and El Corazon for saving his life.
Now, that guy’s plane, the other a half mile back, and six others out in various areas of the jungle are our parts supply for Abby. Today, since we needed our check valve to fly safe, we would be making a visit to plane number one.
I find Jerry tending the grill in front of the hanger. We are both starving and half in the bag already from the twelve pack we have consumed since returning from town.
“Found Abby’s problem” I report.
“Good. Fix it.” Jerry says while he turns the meat.
“We need to make a trip to a parts plane.” I reach for a small piece on the grill but get slapped back with the tongs.
“Which one?”
“The first one back from the strip. I know that part of the plane is pristine.”
“After lunch. Then we sober up and take a flight. We can stay on the coast tonight after we get supplies and then its back to business tomorrow.”
I nod and snag a piece of the pork before he can do anything about it. Delicious. It is only ten o’clock in the morning and already a perfect day.

The only thing about the jungle that is just about unbearable is the humidity. You never seem to get use to it. When I first showed up here I would sweat constantly, day and night. I used to keep changing shirts until I gave up and just wore the wet one until the end of the day. I have acclimated a bit, not sweating as much, but it is still a bitch. I mention this because it is a pain in the ass pulling hydraulics apart while lying on your back under a wrecked plane. The flashlight in my mouth kept me from complaining too much, but it was still a bitch. Hotter than an oven, never mind what might be hiding in the alcove of the gear bay.
“Hurry up man, this is miserable out here.” Jerry tells me, knowing that he is pissing me off.
I work as quick as I can, and make sure to cap off the lines with duct tape. You never know when you may need that line or another part in the system down the road.
After a few minutes I am on my feet, check valve in hand. We walk back out to the Jeep and make the 15 minute ride back to the compound. This parts plane is the most accessible, only a short hike from a drivable path. Several of the others are so far into the jungle that it becomes an overnighter. Not my idea of a fun night, either. Jerry shot a panther on one of those trips while I pulled a set of flight control pulleys for Abby. It upset him to kill it, such a magnificent animal. But it was intent on making a meal of him, and that wouldn’t do.