To our readers:
About every two weeks Elefence Trustee Jon Stevenson posts exciting stories regarding our elephant and people projects to share with our supporters, donors, and fans. We hope you continue to follow our field work with our partner in Malawi, Lynn Clifford. Lynn – as you will read more about her amazing life in weeks to come – is a phenomenal gal. I call her Wonder Woman. She’s the Field Officer for Wildlife Action Group, Malawi (Central Africa) She’s one of the greatest Africa wildlife conservationists I’ve ever known, including George Adamson of Born Free fame.
I just now wrote this story from my interview notes, taken a few years back at Lynn’s mountain top camp headquarters at Thuma Forest Reserve. This is just one incident of the many dangers she can face on a frequent basis. So, hang onto your gyrocopter seat and take a deep breath….
Thanks for reading,
Dick🐘
Elefence
“FALLING FROM THE SKY”
Part One
September 2016 (Lynn Clifford)
On 29th of September while driving out of Thuma Forest Reserve on my way to Lilongwe airport (Malawi’s capital). I stopped to allow an elephant herd to cross the road. I was late starting for the three hour drive to Lilongwe, but I purposely stayed one hour taking photos and enjoying watching these gentle giants browse close to the road.
I don’t often get opportunities to stop and enjoy such an other-worldly scene with all the grueling challenges of my work as a forest field officer for Wildlife Action Group [WAG]. So, I sat on the top of the truck and smiled to myself. I have the best job in the world, and at that moment I felt I was the luckiest person alive. Little did I know that 24 hours later my life would not quite be the same again.
I was heading for the Lilongwe airport because WAG had hired a small gyrocopter to carry out an aerial survey of elephants. It would fly over both Thuma Reserve and the conjoined Dedza Salima Forest Reserve —just across the Linthipe River from Thuma. I did not know what to expect since I’d never seen a gyrocopter before.
Because of the tree canopy in various sections of the forests, it’s difficult to get an accurate counting of elephant movements from the air. But one can find locations of poachers’ camps from the telltale campfires rising smoke. Areas of the forests had recently been hit with a spate of killings of elephants. Five elephants already to date. We needed to see if we had more elephant carcasses that had not yet been found —and see if we still had poachers inside the reserve. It can be extremely dangerous work since poachers will shoot at reconnaissance aircraft.
A gyrocopter is a small flying machine that is very unlike a helicopter. It can cram in only two people, the pilot in the front, the passenger in the backseat. There are no doors so everything is wide open to the whipping winds.
After an overnight stay at a guest hostel, I arrived at the Lilongwe airport early the next morning full of excitement for our aerial mission. I was met by a kind friendly gentleman who is a veteran bush pilot. He led me to a runway where our gyrocopter was parked. Expecting to see an aircraft that was like a helicopter, I was shocked. I was told it would be small, but this was ridiculous. It was tiny. Like someone had put rotary blades on a Volkswagen Beetle. A toy made by kids with rubber bands to turn propellers. I gulped and forced a fake confident smile for the pilot. I was actually trying to reassure myself that all would be well.
As the pilot placed my small camera bag in front of my wicker seat, I climbed into the cramped claustrophobic contraption. A hot wind blew through the open sides of the pod. I clicked on my seatbelt, tightening it like a tourniquet so I couldn’t fall out. My heart was racing.
The pilot informed me that a gyrocopter is a rotorcraft that uses an unpowered, free‑spinning rotor blade on top, using only air for lift. Just one engine‑driven rear propeller for forward thrust. In other words, I believed…I’m really in a toy aircraft.
My ticker was now beating like a mad drummer. As the pilot started the one engine at the rear, I was suppressing panic as the machine gained speed along the runway for takeoff. Unlike a helicopter, a gyrocopter cannot lift straight up, nor hover. As it noisily buzzed forward, trying to take to the skies, I had a terrible foreboding in the pit of my stomach. What if that one and only rear engine quit in mid-air? I tried hard to put that thought out of my mind as the whirling pod gained altitude. Then it directly flew onwards to the mountainous forested hills of Thuma Reserve looming on the horizon.
The gyrocopter finally reached the foothills of the forest. I braced myself as the bumpy downdrafts played with this flying tin can without wings. As I stuck my head out into the tearing wind, I gazed straight downwards. I was shocked to see how many villages were encroaching closer and closer to the Thuma tree line. Hundreds of straw thatched roofs of the small circular dull brown huts pockmarked the treeless landscape. What I thought were dirt tracks of a road were actually dried up river beds that were once free flowing rivers — caused by rampant deforestation. It was a discouraging and depressing sight.
But as soon as we flew further and higher, the emerald green of the forest canopy unveiled itself through wispy misting clouds. Suddenly I was exhilarated. I had never before seen Thuma’s heartbreaking beauty from the air. My eyes were blurred by tears.
This elation overpowered my fears. Gyrocopters aren’t so bad after all I thought. I blotted out any negative notions until I craned my head and looked up. There was that powerless pathetic blade spinning only on the whim of the wind.
As soon as we flew lower just above the forest canopy, I was encouraged. There is so much forest yet to save from the illegal tree cutters for charcoal. The bottom of my stomach felt the altitude rise from the foothills to the boundary of Thuma. The wind easily played with the bouncy lightweight gyrocopter.
As soon as we reached Thuma boundaries, I forgot the fear and became very excited. The first thing I saw was the scouts in their truck bumping along the red earth dusty path. They were on their way to Ranger Camp Rea. The vehicle stopped, the men stepped out and shaded their eyes up to the sky. We waved excitedly to each other.
Minutes later I tapped the pilot on his shoulder and pointed downwards. I then shouted into his ear above the wind and engine noise. ELEPHANTS! It was a herd of about eight, but I could only see —from the height of 200 feet —their backs and their big ears laid straight back in alarm. They were moving fast between the trees, in and out of focus, frightened by this strange noisy bird thrashing the air above them. The herd seemed to be hurrying towards the rocky slopes of Nkholombe Hill.
We then continued to fly down down towards Dedza Salima Reserve just across the Linthipe River from Thuma. We saw more small herds of elephants, and fortunately no carcasses of dead ones. As we turned back to continue to survey Thuma Forest, we crossed over the Linthiphe river and were surprised to see yet another herd of elephants. I was hoarse from shouting out of pure joy. They were safe. Thanks to the constant patrols of our brave rangers who frequently come face-to-face with armed ivory poachers. And quite often attacked and beaten by lawless charcoal tree cutters. These dedicated rangers continually risk their lives for only three dollars a day. An outrageous reality for under-funded, non-profit Africa wildlife organizations such as WAG and ELEFENCE.
The pilot continued to maneuver the ever-drifting metal whimsical dragonfly, fighting constantly against the wind to let me take photos of the elephants.
We began flying lower and lower. The gyrocopter’s wheels just above the canopy kissing the tree tops.
The pilot turned his head around back to me. He shouted above the wind and whirling blades. At first I didn’t hear him, so he bellowed out the words again, “We have a problem with the aircraft! It’s losing power and we’re—” ….
[Part Two to be continued in our next blog installment]
