“Um, yeah sure, I guess so. Well, I was some time ago. My girlfriend is over in Kuwait and we’re heading over there to pick her up. You’re welcome to join us if you like.”
“Well, I’m actually going to head over to Spokane to look for my parents. But thanks anyway. It’s just good to know that there are actually others around.”
“We’ll be back in about six days. Why don’t we just check in here around noon a week from now and we’ll hook up then.”
“Sounds good. I wish you luck then,” he says holding his hand out again.
“And to you Andrew,” I say shaking his hand goodbye. He gets back into his red Acura and retraces his route; the sound of his car diminishes in the distance until the sound of silence embraces us once again.
“Okay guys, I’ve been thinking, yeah, I know, a dangerous thing, but I’ve decided we should start as soon as possible.”
“What about wanting daylight for landing?” Nic asks.
“Well, if it’s clear and we can find the airport, which should be simple enough with GPS, then we’ll hopefully pick up the runway with the landing lights clearly enough. If not, then we always have night vision available but that’s the iffier solution. These things seem fairly rampant and a day could make all of the difference.”
“What about the chairs and stuff?” Bri asks standing up with the others.
“Just leave ‘em. I don’t think there’s anyone around to mind.”
“Michelle, you’ve been awfully quiet. Feel free to speak your mind if you have any thoughts or input.” I say as we arrive at the aircraft.
“Okay, um, Jack. Will we need the cart from the back?” She responds.
“No, we’ll make this start on battery.”
Closing the crew door behind us, we step in and buckle up in the same seats. I turn the electrical systems to battery and let everything warm up. The aircraft has two navigation systems. One is operated by equipment located on the center console and at the nav station receiving their input from the various ground navigation systems throughout the world. The other is a separate GPS/inertial navigation system getting its information from satellites. It’s a complicated system with many very nice features, such as the ability to input any coordinates and create an instrument approach anywhere. It’s this system I plan to use as the ground nav systems will most likely be inoperative. With the system warmed up, I test it and ensure the coordinates shown are identical to the ones stenciled on the ground by our parking place. The next twenty minutes are spent inputting our route coordinates and setting up approaches to mimic the instrument approaches at the various fields we will be landing at, showing everyone the basic functionality.
Starting the aircraft up, we taxi to the runway and take off into the early afternoon sky. “Okay, it’s 1300 so we should expect to arrive around 2230 East Coast Time,” I say turning the aircraft on an easterly heading of 075 degrees then reach up to set the pressurization system. “Let me know if you have any problems with your ears.”
We climb with the sun overhead, the mostly forested hills of the Cascades float below. Mount Rainier slides by to the south of us, its snowy peak still reaching up above the horizon. At 16,000 feet, I raise the nose slightly and retrim the aircraft to 160 knots from the 180 knots we were climbing out at; the steady roar of the engines reverberates throughout. There is not a car moving on the few roads and highways that thread their way through the high, desert plains of eastern Washington below us, growing smaller as we continue our climb.
“Set altimeters to 29.92,” I say as we pass through flight level 180 and reach ahead to make the setting, watching Robert do the same with his altimeter.
We level off at flight level 250 and let the aircraft accelerate to 250 knots before powering back to maintain that cruise airspeed. “Robert, look on the nav system. It should give a ground speed readout on the front screen,” I say looking back to check on the pressurization system and ensure I have indeed stabilized at the 10,000 foot setting previously inputted.
“396 knots,” he replies back. Nice, I think, we have a tailwind. If that continues, it should shave about thirty minutes off our time. I am worried about our long leg from the Azores to Kuwait and any headwinds we might encounter there. We can’t afford to have much of one due to the distances involved.
“Bri, let’s switch to the external tanks,” I say looking over my shoulder as the ground continues to slide beneath us.
The props keep turning giving a strong indication that she switched everything correctly. I set the autopilot and reflect a moment on the days past and what to expect in the days coming. Eventually, without any manufacturing, everything mechanical will fail. Fuel will eventually dry up, autos will break, anything with a moving part will cease without any way to manufacture and replace the parts. We will begin a fast or slow decline back into the medieval stages or beyond. Any energy source will depend upon some type of heat production which probably means coal, and, without any way to transport that from the coal producing regions, that will mean limited ways to manufacture anything. There is solar or wind power to consider but those also rely on parts that eventually fail and need replacing. Mankind and civilization as we know it has reached it pinnacle.
My mind tracks along this theme wondering if this has happened before. Has mankind flourished in the past only to be brought down again to re-establish itself from scratch? Did we miss something in the growing up process that brought this about? Do we continually miss something? The civilizations before leaving only small markers of their existence, whether by physical markers or by legend or myth. It seems we grew up with intelligence only, leaving the wisdom of our actions behind. Blinding ourselves or ignoring the ramifications. Certainly the indications were there, but in our selfish ways and thinking only of our own time, we ignore them and continue on as before, hoping others would rectify our mistakes. Yes, our time has reached its pinnacle during this evolution. We will crawl and scratch our way back, hopefully doing it right this next time. Respecting and being a part of nature rather than over-controlling it. Living in harmony with it rather than trying to bring it to heel, for, nature seems to take care of itself when pushed over a boundary. We need to live in synchronicity and have a synergy with the world rather than a destructive and over-controlling one.
The drone of the engines pushing us through the sky slowly seeps back into my consciousness as the tall peaks and mountain chain of the great continental divide appears on the horizon. The dry, barren, rocky hills of what was once northern Idaho crosses under our nose and wings, sliding behind us as we push our way eastward.
“Otter 39 on UHF guard for anyone receiving,” I call, switching the UHF radio to guard and listening in between calls. I switch over to the VHF radio, “Otter 39 on VHF guard.” Although silence is the only greeting to our calls, I continue to make radio calls on both frequencies every thirty minutes.
The only exceptions to the blue sky around us are a few lonely high clouds to the south. The air is completely smooth as we drone ever more eastward. I spend some of our time showing everyone the various aircraft systems and letting them take turns flying from the right seat. Approaching the Rockies, we pick up a little turbulence from the westerly winds sweeping up and over them. Not much, but enough to bounce us around a little. Just as the last of the Rocky Mountains pass under our wing and we begin crossing over the high plains of Colorado, I make my usual thirty minute radio call on UHF. This time however, a static-filled response crackles in our headset, “Ot….. Che….. res…. on thr…… co…….”