Pop…pop…pop.
There it is again. It isn’t incredibly loud, but very
distinctive. I heard it a few minutes before, as well.
As a pilot, any abnormal, sudden sounds while flying make
the heart skip a beat. But even more so when you’re a few thousand feet above
the scarce jungles of Northeastern Nicaragua. I had just departed the bush
airstrip of Waspam with a pregnant lady in the midst of a premature complicated
delivery. She is in my back seat with a young nurse. I take a quick glance back
at my delicate passengers and give a “thumbs up.” The intermittent popping
sound doesn’t seem to be bothering them, but it is definitely making me
nervous. The patient seems fairly stable, so I focus all of my attention, first
of all, on flying the aircraft—and, second, on finding the source of the sound.
A quick glance at my engine gauges reading normally eases my
mind a little. I think, “We’re not falling out of the sky—so that’s a good
thing.” My first thought is that it is an electronic problem. “Probably the
avionics,” I guess. I remove my headset from my right ear, trying to isolate
the source of the sound. I clearly hear it again, and not in my headset. I now
focus my attention to the radios and transponder. But a quick radio check with
the Puerto Cabezas control tower comes back as clear; they can also read my
transponder. My next thought is an electrical failure. I can’t smell anything
burning, and my amperage gauge is telling me that the alternator is charging
the system fine. But that doesn’t calm
my nerves at all. Obviously, something is not right.
I begin switching on and off all of the electrical lights
with my eye on the amperage gauge and circuit breaker panel. Everything that I
do checks normal. I cannot seem to initiate nor stop the popping. As my
frustration mounts, I begin exploring the possibility of other nonelectric causes.
Maybe the stretcher is making that noise as the patient moves around? Maybe on
takeoff from the bush airstrip I picked up a small branch or other object that
is hitting the exterior of the airplane? A quick glance outside the aircraft
and a slight jostle of stretcher doesn’t confirm those suspicions. Every pop is
now an annoying reminder of the hours I will spend looking for the cause.
Clear as a bell, the tower lady clears me to land. As I turn
base to final, I feel my muscles tense up as the random popping follows my
landing clearance. After landing, I try to calm my frustration regarding the
noise. We are on the ground. My main priority now is getting the patient safely
and quickly from the aircraft to the waiting ambulance. I can investigate the
problem after the patient is on her way to the hospital. The transfer goes
smoothly. The nurse climbs into the back of the ambulance and tells the driver,
“Vamonos.” I shake her hand and thank
her for the help she provided. She looks at me, smiles, and responds, “De nada, piloto.” Her gaze then moves forward, and she blows a
few bubbles from the gum she has been chewing throughout the whole flight. Pop…pop…pop.
