Waypoints: Nooks And Crannies

The Beechcraft Bonanza’s stall horn chirped a little after rotation as the A36, loaded with food, water, and medicine, climbed away from Ocala, Florida—destination Lakeland, where the Sun ’n Fun Fly-In grounds were a staging area for relief supplies moving south and southwest. The 35-minute flight contrasted to the half day of travel for trucks over partially blocked and heavily traveled highways between the two cities. Two more runs that day among a small cadre of GA airplanes set the stage for trips to Fort Myers and ultimately the Florida Keys, most heavily damaged by Hurricane Irma.

The next day we flew loads to Miami Homestead General Aviation Airport, where airplanes and trucks were bringing supplies to a hangar—only to be sorted and loaded onto more airplanes headed for the Keys. The military had closed road access to the Keys, allowing in only trucks for repairs to power lines and essential infrastructure. The public airports on the Keys, such as Marathon and Key West International, were closed to civilian flights. Those who had weathered the storm had no electricity, running water, or food. Four days after the storm’s passing, things were getting desperate.

Relief agencies, led by AEROBridge, a volunteer group doing its best to coordinate GA flights, tried in vain to get permission to send supplies to the public airports. The denial was particularly frustrating after what seemed to be a much more cooperative attitude during relief efforts following Hurricane Harvey’s drenching of Texas and Louisiana 10 days earlier. But the pilots didn’t give up. Instead, they obtained permission from the owners of two privately owned airports in the Keys. Local residents used satellite phones to report that the runways were clear and usable. With that, and after careful briefings to a select group of experienced pilots, airplanes headed southwest to the tiny runways at Summerland Key Cove and Sugar Loaf Shores. Sugar Loaf Shores is 2,700 feet long, but only 20 feet wide. Summerland Key is 2,500 feet long, but with displaced thresholds at both ends, giving 2,000 feet or less for landings; the pavement is 25 feet wide. Both were fine for piston singles, light twins, and single-engine turboprops, as long as we minded speed and wind correction.

My first Keys mission was into Sugar Loaf. I flew in loose formation from Homestead with Richard McSpadden, executive director of the AOPA Air Safety Institute, in his Navion. He was the pathfinder, touching down and reporting back via radio that the conditions were fine. I swooped in with the Bonanza, and we unloaded cases of food, water, and cleaning supplies. McSpadden and I walked from the airport toward the highway looking for the local police officer who was keeping an eye on the airport. Power line crews were cutting trees and installing new poles. The devastation was incredible. Hardly a tree left standing, debris everywhere, every home sustaining damage—from missing shingles to destruction. The power crews assured us they would spread the word about supplies, so we took off and headed back up the Keys—McSpadden to Homestead for another load while I swung into Summerland Key to check out conditions there.

One house at the fly-in community had lost its roof, but most of the others sustained less damage. Still, with debris everywhere and no power or water, the place was a mess. Supplies were piled into a couple of hangars and a few locals showed up to get food and water. One dazed woman who rode out the storm was walking around carrying a carburetor bowl from a generator. She was missing a gasket; without it, gasoline poured out the carb. We couldn’t help her. A young deputy sheriff broke down as he described his own situation: his roof destroyed; his mother’s home destroyed; and his brother, a fisherman, lost his house and his boat—livelihood gone. Yet he was on duty, helping residents find relief when he could have been at home trying to clean up.

The armada of GA airplanes played an important role in helping those most affected while the federal programs stood up their larger and longer-term relief efforts. With our little airplanes, we swooped into the nooks and crannies of the Keys and South Florida, delivering hope and supplies and, sometimes, just lending an ear for a few minutes as survivors told their tales.

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