Hidden Courage (Atlantis) (14 page)

Reality began to set in. He was not going to be able to start the engine; the battery was dead and there was nothing he was going to be able to do to change that fact.

“No way. This can’t be happening,” Jack said out loud.

Jack stared out at the valley far in front of him. He knew that the only option he had was to hike out of the valley to civilization. That could take many days and the trail that led into the valley would be difficult to find, due to the fact that he never used it to come in by. It was small and meandered at the far end of the valley somewhere. It could take days to find and he had only enough food for maybe two. To make matters worse, he would have to hike for many days without food. This had now turned into a life-threatening situation. He wasn’t sure if he could last a week without food while hiking through the treacherous terrain.

Jack pulled nearly everything out of his pack except for food, water and a rope for emergencies. If he was going to have any chance at survival at all, he’d need to go as light as possible. He shouldered his pack, took one last look at his plane and began the long hike out of the valley.

A few minutes later, he got to the edge of the snowfield. Looking beyond it, the terrain dropped off rapidly, at one point becoming nearly a sheer cliff to the valley floor. Jack estimated the vertical drop to be more than 2,000 feet. He stopped for a moment to find a way down the steep slope. He thought about sliding down on his rear end to the bottom but reconsidered, thinking that he would probably slide out of control. As he stood there trying to take that first step from the mountain, an idea came to him.

“What a minute… How about…” Jack said to himself, stopping in mid-sentence while thinking.

After Jack built his plane, he was required to test and record the performance as a requirement toward certification. During testing, he had experimented with various flight characteristics. During one of his tests, he needed to see at what speed the engine would restart if it had quit while en route. The test began with Jack slowing the plane at a high altitude, then cutting the engine. He then pushed the nose over and gained speed. As he descended, the speed rapidly increased until the propeller started to rotate by the force of the wind. Eventually, the spinning propeller started the engine on its own and he notated the speed that this happened. It was seventy knots.

Jack looked down into the valley below. He figured if he could get his plane to the edge of the cliff, push it off and jump in, he might have the altitude for the plane to gain the speed to start the engine and fly out of the valley. It was a long shot, but so was him making it back to civilization without food or water. He ran through the various scenarios with each plan for survival. One ended in a quick death and one ended in a slow death.

“That’s it. I’m flying the plane off this mountain or I’ll die trying,” Jack said resolutely.

After considering his options, he actually felt fairly confident that his plane would start before hitting the ground. He was also fairly confident that the chances of finding his way out of the valley and back to the civilization were slim at best. Heading back to the plane, he was frightened to his core. He felt nauseous with each step his took. In an hour he was either going to be dead or flying home.

The plane was relatively heavy and took Jack a couple of hours to push and pull it to the edge of the snowfield. Toiling hard and deep in concentration, he missed the slight decline in the slope. Slowly, almost imperceptibly, the plane began to inch toward the cliff under its weight. As Jack moved from the tail to the wing, he spotted the movement, but only too late. The plane hit a momentary decline and picked up speed.

Jack grabbed the wing and dug his heels in, but the weight of the plane was too great and he was pulled from his stance and dragged along the ground behind it. Jack could feel the speed slowly increasing. He knew he needed to act fast or all would be lost.

Frantically, he jogged beside the plane, opened the door and pulled out his ice axe. He then ran back to the tail and grabbed the tie-down rope that trailed behind it. He clipped the rope into a carabineer, then onto the ice axe. In one quick move, he dropped to the ground and thrust his ice axe into the snow. As the ice axe plowed through the snow, Jack rolled on top of it while digging his boots in for added advantage.

“Come on, baby; slow,” Jack hollered.

Jack fought desperately with his axe and boots, digging in further with each passing step. He began to feel the plane’s momentum slow. He held his position and angled the axe for greater penetration. Suddenly, abruptly, the plane came to a halt. Jack didn’t move. He didn’t breathe. He waited for any sign of movement. There was none.

“Phew, that was close… again. I’m gonna need to buy stock in underwear before this trip is through,” Jack said, in comic relief.

He stood up, ran to the door and pulled out his other ice axe. Running around to the other side of the plane, he clipped it into the tie-down that hung from the wing. He then buried the axe in the snow and took up the slack in the rope, creating an extra anchor point to hold the plane steady. Placing his hands on the wing, he rocked it slightly and watched both anchors, ensuring they would hold.

“Okay, minor crisis avoided,” Jack joked again.

He walked to the front of the plane and built large mounds of snow in front of the skis, creating barricades to keep the plane from sliding. He then repositioned the ice axe from the wing, closer to the pilot’s door, creating a quick release when he was ready to leave.

Walking back to the tail anchor, Jack nervously loosened it from the snow. As he pulled it out, he watched to see if his barricades and wing anchor would hold. The plane lurched forward momentarily, then stopped abruptly, held in place by the wing anchor. He disconnected the tail rope and ice axe and stowed them in the plane. Jack was now ready.

“Okay; this is it. Sayonara,” he said to himself.

Jack took one last look around. He shuddered as he thought that he might be dead in less than a minute.

With the plane positioned for release down the mountain, there was nothing left for him to do. Jack jumped into the plane. Nervously, he hesitated a moment, then pulled the rope that held his ice axe, releasing the anchor and allowing the plane to slide forward. This was it. There was no turning back now.

Jack looked out his windscreen. He was two hundred feet from the edge of the cliff and gaining speed. The ride was bumpy, but acceptable. As he slid closer to the cliff, he started to pull back on the stick in anticipation of the drop. His heart was pounding. Fear and anticipation racked his body as he watched the plane gaining speed as it slid closer to the edge.

Jack anxiously monitored the distance out his windscreen to the edge of the cliff.

180 feet, 160 feet, 140 feet …

He was picking up speed, but not nearly as fast as he needed. He looked down at his airspeed indicator. It was still registering zero.

120 feet, 100 feet, 80 feet …

Jack was closing fast on the edge of the cliff. He need more speed. He needed twenty-five knots to control the plane. It was that simple. He thought about jumping out and pushing, but realized the foolishness of this idea. He checked his airspeed again.

“Airspeed alive,” Jack shouted.

His indicator was now beginning to move. With his mind racing, he frantically scanned between the cliff and his instruments. He knew without airspeed over the wings, he wouldn’t be able to control the plane over the cliff. He knew things would end disastrously. He desperately needed twenty-five knots.

Slowly, painfully, his airspeed began to climb.

Five knots, eight knots, twelve knots …

“Come on, FASTER!” Jack yelled out loud.

The edge of the cliff was close. Jack could see well over it and down into the rough and wild valley below. He was scared – damn scared. His hands sweated profusely and he wiped them off on his pants repeatedly.

The cliff loomed closer.

Sixty feet, forty feet, twenty feet …

“Come on, FASTER, God dammit!” Jacked yelled again, slamming his hand on the dashboard in frustration.

Nearing the cliff, the plane picked up more speed. Jack’s eyes were glued to his airspeed indicator.

Fifteen knots, eighteen knots, twenty-two knots

Jack watched in horror as the cliff moved under the plane. Instinctively, he hauled the control stick back and held on. As the plane rolled over the cliff edge, he glanced down at his airspeed: twenty-five knots.

“Holy shit!”

The drop was frightening and it instantly took his breath away. One minute he was slowly sliding along the ground, the next he was free-falling. Jack’s stomach felt like it was in his mouth as he quickly dropped. The speed of the plane immediately accelerated from twenty-five to fifty knots in a flash, barely touching the descending cliff before becoming airborne.

As the airspeed increased, the tiny plane wanted to fly, but he pushed forward on the stick and pointed the nose of the plane toward the ground 2,000 feet below. As the ground dropped away, Jack could see the vertical cliff out of the corner of his eyes. It was frighteningly steep and had a shear rocky face at its bottom.

Jack watched his airspeed.

Sixty knots, sixty-five knots, seventy knots

Halfway down the cliff face, Jack had reached his target speed. He had descended the first 1,000 feet faster than he anticipated and now he had 1,000 feet left to start his engine. With the ground racing up toward him, he had very little time left.

This was it: the moment of truth. The propeller started to windmill and Jack prepared himself for roar of the engine. He looked down at the valley floor he was descending to. He looked at the windmilling prop and then back at his airspeed, now registering eighty knots.

“NO!” Jack shouted out in horror. “This isn’t right. It should be running. The engine should be running!”

Jack was right: the engine should have been running by now. He looked down at the bottom of the cliff rushing up at him. He could see the branches of the trees below where the bottom of the cliff ran into the valley floor. Frantic for a solution, he looked at the gauges and instruments to see if he could determine the problem. He looked down at the flaps lever to ensure he had lowered them to their maximum setting, paramount for a takeoff like this. His eyes raced across the cockpit.

Then he saw it: the key was in the ‘off’ position. His knee must have hit it in the bumpy ride over the cliff.

Quickly, his shaking hand fumbled to grab the key. Staring out his windscreen, he frantically watched the ground rushing up at him, less the 200 feet away. Jack’s sweaty hand found its purchase and turned the key to ‘on’.

Instantly, the engine roared to life.

Immediately, he hauled back on the stick and held the throttle full forward.

Jack felt sick as he watched the trees grow larger in his windscreen. He started his engine, only too late. With full power and his control stick pulled all the way back, all he could do was wait for the impact.

Mere feet from the trees, Jack felt his descent slow and the nose of the plane begin to rise.

“Whoa,” Jack shouted.

Suddenly, the tiny plane was struck by a dramatic updraft that roiled above the trees. Instantly, the plane’s descent stopped and the updraft forced the plane higher.

Jack held his breath and watched the trees race by his skis. The plane’s attitude angled up and Jack was now climbing.

He cleared the trees in the valley with less than a few feet to spare. Thrusting his plane into a steep climb, his airspeed dropped from ninety knots down fifty-five as he struggled to climb out of the valley. At the high altitude he was flying, his climb rate was unimpressive: only 800 feet per minute. He could only hope that he didn’t run into any downdrafts as he climbed.

Ascending higher, he very slowly circled about the valley floor, searching for the most nondescript terrain to fly over in order the limit to possibilities for turbulence. Clawing for every inch of elevation, he kept his eyes on his airspeed and on the route out of the valley. He needed to climb to 13,000 feet to clear the deadly saddle he’d nearly crashed into a few days before.