After the Plane Crash

After the Plane Crash, October 11, 2025

In the summer of 1990, I spent six months working as an aircraft mechanic on the Dehavilland Beaver used in the film “At Play in the Fields of the Lord.” The movie was made on location in the Amazon jungle outside of Belem, Brazil. The city of a million people, in 1990, sits at the mouth of the Amazon River, 120 miles south of the Equator.

I’ve already described the floatplane crash in “Just Plain Floats.” In this story, I’ll describe what happened after the crash.

It was a weekday in mid-September. I went to the Belem Hilton at 7 AM, as usual, to be taken to the Belem Yacht Club. The Dehavilland Beaver on floats was moored there. My job was to go along with the pilot, Chris, as the mechanic and all-around grunt. One of my jobs was to untie the floats of the Beaver from the buoy it was tied to. It was also my job to tie up the Beaver at the buoy when it returned from the Mission movie location on the Rio Acara. I did this while the propeller was spinning a foot in front of my face as I knelt on the float, trying not to fall into the opaque water of the Amazon.

This workday, I was told at the Belem Hilton that my seat on the 8-seat Beaver was being taken by an actor or big shot of the film. This was my first weekday off; I’d worked 6 days a week since May.

I wasn’t sure this was a good idea. Chris was a good pilot, but he wasn’t a floatplane pilot. I’d taught him the ropes of floatplane flying a Beaver. Chris was also tired. Flying 6 days a week, twice a day, in the Amazon is dangerous work.

So, since I’d already swum my laps at the rooftop pool at Hotel Sagres, where I was staying, I decided to enjoy the day at the Tiki Hut Bar by the side of the pool at the Belem Hilton.

I started drinking Cerpinha beers about noon. It was a typical 120°F, high-humidity day. At about 3:30 PM, I could see and feel a big storm coming in from the Atlantic to the east. Almost every day, there was a big rainstorm around 4:30 or 5 P.M. The Equatorial sun’s heat warmed up the ocean, and clouds formed. I’d seen it rain so fast and hard that water would pool 1” deep on level ground in a minute.

I could feel that this storm was bigger than usual. I hoped that Chris had tied up the Beaver to the dock at the Mission location, and they all took boats to Belem or stayed at the movie location on the small river cruise ship anchored there for the film crew. The crew only came to Belem on Saturday night. The cruise ship from hell was nicknamed the SS Amoeba for all the dysentery the crew had onboard.

It was about 5:30 PM when I heard, “Señor Teem MachGrow. Por favor, blanca telefonica.”

Jayzus! This can’t be good news. I answered the white telephone. It was the production office (Valeria) telling me that the Beaver had crashed into a steel barge down by the Yacht Club. No one was hurt, but the plane was damaged. A car would pick me up and take me to the scene.

Fuck! If I’d had any brains, I would have gone up to my room, 808 (oito zero oito), packed up my shit, and gone to the airport to fly to Miami. Sure, I’d be leaving my tools behind at the Cruzeiro Hangar, but…

Well, I’m an elephant faithful 100%.
So, I got in the car and went to the crash scene. It was still raining. Sunset was in 30 minutes or so. On the Equator, sunrise is at 6 AM and sunset is at 6 PM every day.

Down below in the muddy river, the Beaver was surrounded by Brazilian men and kids. A kid was standing on the tail’s horizontal stabilizer to pull the front of the Beaver out of the mud and water. Three men at the front of the plane were attaching empty oil drums to replace the torn-off RH float bow so that the plane would float upright again.

Valeria asked me if it was safe to have that kid standing on the horizontal stabilizer.

“It looks like it’s working to me.”

Valeria and I got back into the car with Chris to go back to the Hilton. The actors and big shots went in other cars.

Back at the Hilton, Chris and I sat in the lobby. Chris told me how the crash happened. No visibility due to the storm. He flew at fifteen feet or less, over the Rio Acara, using the shoreline as a guide. He flew under the high tension lines carrying power to Belem from the Hydro plant a few miles away. That was Belem’s only power source.

When Chris came to the huge Rio Guama, about 1.5 miles across, he had to guess to find the Yacht Club at Belem. The city sits where the Rio Guama and the Amazon meet.

When Chris saw boats tied up, he cut the power and landed, but there are no brakes on a floatplane, so he hit a barge tied up to shore. It was a low-velocity collision, maybe 15 mph.

Everyone climbed out of the plane onto the barge and shore. They were all safe and uninjured. I told Chris he did a great job, all things considered. No one was hurt. The plane was damaged, but repairable.

We both dreaded the phone call that would be coming from David Jones in Los Angeles. Jones, the famous stunt pilot and aerial coordinator, had hired both Chris and me. Jones would not be happy about the plane crash. It was his plane, and it was making money ferrying actors and big shots to the Mission location.

Sure enough, “Señor Teem MachGrow, blanca telefonica.”

Oh, Jayzus!

I answered the phone. David Jones was livid. Why did Chris and I fly in such a storm?

I informed Jones that the production office kept me off the plane that day.

Jones wasn’t happy about that. Then he had me put Chris on the phone. Chris explained the flight and the accident.

A relaxing day off by the Tiki Hut Bar had become a nightmare. A nightmare that lasted 6 more weeks as I repaired the plane and put it back on wheels.

Everything changed in an instant. That’s the Amazon.

TJM