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"If we're lucky, we'll actually see the volcanoes today," Cindy Silong says as we make our way through the murky gray skies of southeastern Uganda. Frankly, I'll consider myself lucky if I see anything clearly today. There's an overcast just above us, and we're flying in and out of rain showers, with visibility that rivals that of Los Angeles on what even Angelinos would classify as a "marginal" day.
"You'll want to keep on that course line," Cindy says, pointing to the GPS as we approach the mountainous border between Uganda and the Democratic Republic of the Congo (DRC). "Seriously. I mean ON that course line," she emphasizes again. I'm only one dot off course, but I nudge the Caravan a little bit to the right. The reason for her stricture soon appears off to my left, rising out of the mist and clouds like a dark iceberg looming above the gray-green waters of the North Atlantic.
The peak is Volcan Karisimbi, a 14,787-foot tall volcano that's the tallest of eight volcanic peaks along the Uganda-Rwanda-Congo border, where some of the world's most spectacular gorillas-and violent rebel soldiers-take refuge in the dense jungle foliage. To get to our destination of Goma, we have to make our way past at least five of these towering peaks, culminating in a "thread-the-needle" approach into Goma between two closely spaced volcanoes less than 10 kilometers from the airport.
As we near our aptly-named "Volk 1" approach waypoint on the GPS, the clouds part and two staggeringly impressive peaks appear in front of us. Only a few kilometers separate their slopes, and the pass between them is almost 7,000 feet high. We're at 10,500 feet-a compromise between the descent required for the fast-approaching airport and the altitude required for terrain clearance-but the peaks to either side of us stretch up to 11,384 and 14,557 feet, respectively. I tell Cindy I understand her concern about course deviation.
"Yeah, the first time I flew IMC (in the clouds) through here, it was, like, 'Oh, My God!' " Cindy says with a laugh. "But it was EXCELLENT!"
Obviously, I'm flying with a woman who possesses more than the average zest for challenge, stress and risk. Which might explain why she's thrived here, flying in Uganda and Congo for the past three years.
Ten minutes later, we're on the ground in Goma. Twenty years ago, my sister Gail lived in Congo (then called Zaire) with the Peace Corps, and she remembers Goma as a beautiful and lush garden spot that was a popular vacation destination. It still is a stunningly beautiful area, tucked in between the northern shores of Lake Kivu and the mountainous Rwandan border. But it's also directly in the path and shadow of two active volcanoes, and the region itself is now as unstable as the turbulent and periodically destructive forces that flow beneath it.
Which is, of course, why we're here. I'm in Congo with Air Serv International, which provides air support for humanitarian organizations in disaster and conflict zones around the world (Refugees and Legionnaires, February 2008). And after years of civil and regional conflict sparked by the Rwandan genocide of 1994, two volcano eruptions, staggering levels of atrocities against women by undisciplined militias, and two cholera epidemics, eastern Congo definitely qualifies as a disaster and conflict zone. So Goma is now a major hub of international aid organizations, many of whom need air support to get personnel and supplies safely to outlying villages.
The Air Serv pilots in Goma have more comforts than in some other places. The crew house sits on the shores of Lake Kivu, with bougainvillea cascading over its brick walls. There's a guarded gate to the compound and power only half the time, but pilots in Goma at least have some restaurants and bars to socialize in and a community of young aid workers to socialize with.
On the other hand, flying in the Congo is still a challenging and hazardous endeavor. Air Serv pays strict attention to maintenance, enforces very conservative operating procedures and standards, and consequently has an excellent safety record. But four days before I was scheduled to fly to the Congo, the airplane I was supposed to fly there crashed in the jungle. Miraculously, its pilots survived relatively unscathed, but it was a sobering reminder about the hazards of flying in remote Africa.
