“Perhaps,” Helen said, “but please do it anyway. Formation flying is dangerous and we do not want to leave any room for misunderstanding each other.”
“Madres de Dios,” Celia said nervously. “Is it too late to back out of this little project?”
“Far too late,” Jake told her with a chuckle. He then keyed back up. “I copy that, Sensei. I will call out my banks giving you direction, angle of bank, compass heading, and I will let you know when I’m returning to level. I will make no right banks at all. Are we ready to do this thing?”
“I was born ready,” Helen told him.
Jake smiled and looked at his two passengers. “You two ready?”
“Let’s get it on,” Em replied, still filming the Cessna.
“I’m never ready,” Celia said, “but let’s do it anyway.”
“Right,” Jake said with a smile. He keyed up again. “Banking three-zero degrees left to nine-zero. Starting now.”
He rolled the aircraft left while simultaneously pushing down on the left rudder pedal with his foot. The horizon tilted before them, the ocean rolling up on the left side, the bright blue sky on the right. Jake’s eyes tracked over his instruments, watching the compass heading spin to the left, watching his angle of attack indicator shudder as the nose tried to drop down, watching his bank indicator to make sure he did not overshoot. He pulled back a little on the stick, compensating for the decrease in lift caused by the banking wings. The compass spun through 140 then 130 then 120. At 100 he keyed the mic again.
“Coming out of the bank now,” he said. “Will settle on nine-zero.”
“I copy you’re coming out of bank,” Helen’s voice spoke. “Will settle on nine-zero.”
He brought the plane back to straight and level flight, pushing back down on the stick a bit now that the lift had returned to normal, making minor adjustments to his trim wheels to lock them onto a due east heading and a steady altitude of five thousand feet. He looked to his right and saw the Cessna was still on station, flying placidly along fifty feet away.
“Nice one, Jake,” Helen said. “It’s almost like you know what you’re doing over there.”
He chuckled again. “Almost,” he told her.
They flew on this heading until they were several miles east of Catalina’s coastline. Jake then banked them to a heading of zero degrees—due north. After a brief position check, they banked left again, this time to two hundred seventy degrees—due west. They flew in this direction until they were approaching the angle of Catalina’s coast once again and then he banked left yet again, bringing them back to their original heading of one eight zero, or due south. Through it all, Helen banked simultaneously with him, maintaining that fifty feet of separation and holding the altitude.
“All right,” Jake said. “Looks like we’re on course for this thing.”
“I concur,” Helen agreed.
“We’ll be crossing over the approach path for AVX, but at five thousand feet we’ll be well above the glideslope.”
“I concur with that as well,” Helen said.
“What’s AVX?” asked Celia.
“The airport at Catalina,” Jake said. “We’ll be intersecting their approach path, but we’re well above the altitude at which anyone landing or taking off will be flying.”
“Oh ... I see,” she said, clearly not liking the idea of crossing an airport’s approach path.
“Do you think that one pass will be sufficient?” Helen asked.
“What do you think, Em?” Jake asked. “One pass good?”
“It should be good, as long as I catch some of the island in the shots as we go by,” he said, still peering through his viewfinder, the lens pushed up against the side window.
“One pass oughta do it,” Jake told Helen. “We’ll continue on one-eight-zero until we’re about a mile south of the island and then we can separate.”
“Sounds like a plan,” she said.
“We won’t be doing any more formation turns?” Em asked.
“We shouldn’t be,” Jake said.
“Can we adjust our positioning a bit then?” he enquired. “Pull a little bit more in front? That’ll let me catch some good shots of Greg without the wing strut getting in the shot.”
“I think we can do that,” Jake said.
He got back on the radio and told Helen his intention. She had no problem with it so he throttled up some, letting their position creep forward another fifty feet or so.
“Perfect, right there,” Em said.
“Right,” Jake said, throttling back down to a hundred and ten knots. His plane really did not like to fly this slow, but it was for a good cause.
“Can you really see Greg though that thing?” Celia asked.
“As clear as if he was sitting in front of me,” Em replied. “I can see the expression on his face. He seems like he’s having a good time.”
“Amazing,” Celia said.
“Maybe you could have him give me a few thumbs-up gestures?” Em asked.
“Why the hell not?” Jake said, keying up again.
It took them about twenty minutes to fly past the island’s east coast and back out over the open ocean. Ahead of them and slightly to the right, they could now see the island of San Clemente rising up. Several cargo ships and an oil tanker could be seen on the surface, either heading toward the Port of Long Beach or away from it.
“Okay now,” Jake said to Helen. “Em tells us he has sufficient footage for the project. Are we ready to separate?”
“We are ready to separate,” Helen confirmed. “The best way to do that is by altitude first. You pull up at least five hundred feet before making any turns. I’ll stay at present altitude and maintain one-eight-zero until I see you turn away. Once I know you’re back up to speed, I’ll simply maneuver away like normal.”
“Sounds good, Sensei,” Jake said. “Before we do this, is anyone over there up for a little breakfast?”
There was a pause of maybe twenty seconds and then Helen responded. “We do have some hungry people over here. What are you suggesting?”
“The DC-3 Grill?” Jake said, referring to the restaurant at Santa Catalina’s airport. Back when they had been dating, he and Helen had made that a fairly regular destination for breakfast or lunch dates. Jake had not been there a single time since the breakup.
“That’s kind of expensive, isn’t it?” Helen asked. “We’ll each have to pay a thirty-dollar landing fee, and the food isn’t cheap either.”
“It’s my treat,” Jake said. “Landing fees and all. NVC is paying me a couple of hundred bucks for this gig. It’s found money, as my mom would say. I might as well spend it on something fun.”
“All right then,” Helen said. “I guess we’re in. Have you landed at AVX lately?”
“I haven’t been there since the last time you and I were there,” he said.
“Me either,” she said, perhaps a hint of melancholy in her voice. “I hear that the runway surface is still pretty crappy though.”
“It always was,” Jake said. “Like landing on a dirt road.”
“Still, visibility is good and the winds are light. The last time we were there was in your Cessna. You’ve never landed your twin engine there?”
“I never have,” Jake confirmed.
“Should be fun then,” she said. “Why don’t you go in first since you have the speed?”
“Will do,” he said. “I’m pulling up now. See you on the ground.”
“Looking forward to it,” she said. “And be careful. AVX is bit tricky, remember?”
“I remember,” he said, pulling back on his yoke and watching his altimeter start to spin up. Once he had a good solid rate of climb, he throttled up and then retracted his flaps, putting on some speed. When he reached 5500 feet he banked left again, turning them back to the east so he could get into Catalina’s landing pattern.
“Uh ... what does she mean that it’s a bit tricky?” asked Celia nervously.