Guys, danger and self-deprecating humor.

Sometimes the only way to address a problem is with self-deprecating humor. Hats off to this gentleman.

Hard to watch. Hard not to watch. Swiss Mishap.


Double click to enlarge.

Reminds me of an incident in my youth. We were in Sweden. My father was the operations manager for a Swedish oil company exploring the Baltic for oil deposits. My aunt and uncle were visiting from the US. My uncle was also in the oil industry. Among my many blessings in life has been the quality of men who came before. Both my father and uncle were admirable. Both of an engineering bent, engaging with the world as it was, both entrepreneurial, both adventurers, both pilots, both with the highest standards of themselves, both open to everyone and the whole world. I miss them both.

While we were world-travelers, my uncle was well rooted in his corner of America. This trip to Sweden was something of an adventure. Little did he know.

The operations base for the offshore platform was on the island of Gotland in the Baltic. My father proposed, and my uncle jumped at the opportunity, that they spend the day on the off-shore drilling platform (all my uncle's oil and gas explorations were onshore, he had never been on an offshore platform which, engineering-wise, is a different kettle of fish). They would catch the routine supply helicopter run in the morning, fly out to the platform, spend the day discussing the operations and catch the return flight in the afternoon. The best laid plans . . .

My aunt was not nearly as enthused at this opportunity as my uncle. How high would they fly, how far, etc.? The two brothers are aw-shucking, it's nothing, she's anxious. But eventually, a green light.

We are all up in Stockholm, my mom and aunt doing some touring, we kids are in school. The brothers are down in Gotland boarding the helicopter.

Twenty minutes into the flight the shaft to the rear rotor starts making a grinding noise. Soon after there is bad vibration. And then the shaft snaps. Without the rear rotor, the craft begins to spin. The pilot is quick on the mark and immediately shuts off the main engine to bring the spin under control. As best he can, he regains control to get as much glide as they can, buying time in the air. He calls in a May Day to the oil platform who immediately relay it to the Swedish Coast Guard. Almost immediately a military jet plane in the vicinity is dispatched to the radioed location.

Fortunately, the helicopter was of a pontoon design. They go into the water but stay upright. The calm sea from above ends up actually being several foot waves which immediately begin flexing, stretching and tearing the structure of the helicopter. The rear fuselage tears off but is hanging by wiring and cables. My dad is casting anxious glances at the sharp edges and their close proximity to the pontoons.

In short minutes, they see the Air Force jet take up a holding pattern above them, keeping them in sight until a Coast Guard rescue helicopter can arrive.

As my dad described it, there was never any panic, just a pragmatic growing realization of their vulnerability. Small helicopter, perilous flotation, bone-cold water despite being summer, rapid deterioration of conditions as the small craft is pounded by the waves. The level-headed engineers are cracking jokes with one another:

Dad: You're going to be in trouble with your wife.

Uncle: You're going to be in trouble with my wife.

Within half an hour, the Coast Guard helicopter arrives and takes up station above them. In no time, the Coast Guard diver is down in the water and swimming over to them. One by one they are all winched up. After the pilot is recovered, they all return to the Coast Guard station. After paperwork and debriefing, they are released.

Meantime, my father's work colleagues have called my mom to let her know what is happening. They keep the updates flowing as things progress. Once she knows they are safe back on land, she calls my school, afraid that on my commute home I will see some exaggerated tabloid account on the news stands. I am called from class to Mrs. Dietze's office, the principal, who calmly explains the situation in such a deadpan way that it is as if I am being told that my dad will be home late from work. Very effective. It was only later that I began to comprehend the full nature of the situation.

So the two brother's day trip to the off-shore platform ended up being aborted. I am not sure my uncle ever got to see an operating off-shore platform. Certainly not if my aunt had anything to do with it. She was quite clear she would have nothing more to do with this boy's outing nonsense. What I remember perhaps most vividly is their down-playing of the dangers, their humor and joking to defuse concerns, and their own enjoyment of their adventure.

But what great guys. Engaged, effective, considerate, smart, adventurous. Unsung but deeply appreciated.