Hidden Courage (Atlantis) (2 page)

During the planning stages of the trip, Jack obtained all the maps he required to fly the various routes. He then figured that he had, on average, about three hours of gas for flying time, and one hour of gas in reserve. This allowed him to make each leg of the flight, airport to airport, about 250 miles long. In some cases he calculated that he might have to stretch the leg of a flight into the reserves, but for the most part he maintained the 250 mile rule.

As he made his way along his course of flight, he maintained radio contact with the controlling agencies for the region his was flying in. ‘Center’, as Air Traffic Control is normally referred to, track all aircraft in their area, maintaining separation by altitude and airspeed and then passing them off to the next controlling agency as the aircraft transition through one airspace to the next in series.

Jack had made contact with ‘Center’ early in his flight, so in addition to his own ability to stay on course, he had the added assurance of ATC reporting periodic updates of his position. Aside from an occasional alert from Center of an aircraft in his vicinity of flight, the leg he was flying was routine and uneventful.

Before the day of electronic navigational aids, flying was done by visually checking and cross-checking landmarks on the map and comparing them with the landscape below while timing distances between each landmark. It was laborious, stressful, and prone to error. This type of navigation was called ‘Pilotage’ and ‘Dead Reckoning’. With the advent of Loran and then eventually
GPS
, the need for Pilotage and Dead Reckoning became obsolete, ultimately being replaced by the extremely accurate and reliable
GPS
, where a pilot’s position is located by satellite.

Jack had two
GPS
receivers in his floatplane, all but eliminating any difficult navigation. He simply pushed a button and got an exact reading of where he was on the map and how much further he had to his destination. He would cross-check it with the other
GPS
receiver to ensure reliability, then sit back and monitor the engine instruments.

Jack’s first day of flying would be pretty much routine, but once he crossed over the
Appalachians
and into the plains, this would be uncharted territory for him. He had never seen this part of the country before and the excitement of brand new scenery would keep him entertained for weeks.

Jack noted some of the landmarks as he flew southwest: long stretches of forests with spots shaved bare containing little towns and cities; crossing rivers with large factories on their banks; small lakes and an occasional golf course. He could just make out the skylines of large cities with their tall buildings poking up above the horizon. All of these landmarks were familiar types of terrain he had become accustomed to while flying over
New England
.

Several hours and three airports later, Jack found himself in
Knoxville
,
Tennessee
for the evening. This was his planned last stop for the day.

With most large airports, there is a room designated specifically for pilots, aptly named the ‘pilots’ lounge’. Most have a couch and computer to check the various needs for flying such as weather, airport conditions, etc. Typically the rooms are empty. Jack decided that he would push the limits of the room’s usage and stay there overnight. He figured if anyone questioned him, he would tell them he was waiting for the weather to clear at his next location.

It wasn’t his bed, but it wasn’t uncomfortable either. As he laid down on the couch and pulled his fleece jacket over him as a blanket, he reflected on the day’s flight. It was pretty uneventful; ‘Almost boring,’ he thought to himself. He smiled slightly, knowing that tomorrow would bring a change of scenery; something he would be experiencing for the first time, something he awaited with nervous excitement and anticipation. He had butterflies in his stomach as he envisioned the new sights he’d be seeing over the next few days.

Unfortunately, as entertaining as his dreams were, Jack was exhausted and couldn’t keep his eyes open another minute. While thinking about the future, he drifted off into a deep, sound sleep.

DAY
2

During the planning stages, Jack felt that three three-hour flights per day would be as much as he could handle safely, essentially flying 750 miles every day. With this goal set, he figured he would arrive at his destination in
Peru
in a little over eight days. If he ran into any foul weather, he'd have to wait it out until the storms passed, extending the length of his trip.

He woke early and checked the weather. He could see that a low pressure front was moving toward his flight path. If he didn’t leave soon, he would miss his window of opportunity and the storm front would then block his route of flight. The size of the front looked large, producing heavy rain and fog, something that Jack was not equipped to handle.

‘Having to wait out a storm front this size could take days,’ he thought to himself.

He leaped from his chair, grabbed his gear and ran out to the plane. Eating a peanut butter sandwich, he laid his map out in the seat next to him, dialed in the data for the next destination and departed.

Soon he was flying over mountains and dense forest. This kind of flying made Jack nervous due to the lack of flat open land he would need in an emergency landing. Without a suitable option for landing, he was left to consider a ‘hard’ landing in the trees, the kind that could easily produce a fatality.

“What a way to start a morning,” he said out loud.

He tried to relax by listening to the smooth sound of the engine. As long as it ran flawlessly, he had nothing to worry about. He checked his gauges often to confirm his feelings.

Pretty soon, the view out in front of him started to become hazy, like a hot August day in
New England
– only it wasn’t August; it was April. Jack new this was the first evidence of the storm front he was trying to avoid. The haze had wispy, finger-like clouds that stretched out from the storm’s center, located hundreds of mile away. They reached out and ‘felt’ their way across the sky as they moved east toward him. He looked down at his chart and recalled the position of the storm he had read off the computer in the pilots’ lounge earlier. The storm appeared to be moving faster than reported.

Looking down at his instruments, he saw he was traveling eighty-five knots at 8,000 feet. He decided to try to improve upon his position by increasing his speed to ninety knots. Looking down at his map, he saw that he could also safely descend to 4,000 feet, hoping to get under the storm's reaches.

Thirty minutes later, haze had become an overcast sky, and he noticed that the cloud’s ceiling wasn’t much higher in altitude than he was.

Jack had been flying for about three hours now and needed to stop and refuel. This was going to have to be quick. He descended to the regional airport in
Columbus
,
Mississippi
, refueled, checked the weather, used the bathroom and departed. He was on the ground no longer than fifteen minutes.

‘An impressive turn-around,’ Jack thought to himself.

Once airborne, he climbed as high as he dared, almost to 2,500 feet. Looking up, Jack guessed the ceiling had dropped to 3,000 feet. This was a very bad sign. The weather was now deteriorating rapidly.

Checking his map, Jack was happy to see that he only needed to fly another hour to be out of it. He knew that the highest obstruction along his route of flight was only about 1,200 feet high. If he needed to, he could descend to 1,500 feet and still feel relatively safe he would avoid any dangerous obstructions.

Thirty minutes later, Jack was forced to fly lower. The clouds were just above him now at his altitude of 1,500 feet. Below, the heavy green forests that had made the flying uncomfortable were now absent. They were replaced by green grassy plains and brown plowed farmland. He watched dust rise from the middle of a couple of ‘rectangles’ as he observed farmers on their tractors, plowing their fields.

Suddenly, without notice, Jack's world went white. The cloud bank had descended to his altitude and he was now flying through it. He heard a strange sound from the engine. It sounded as if he had changed his power setting.

“What the....?” he called out, puzzled.

Frightened, he frantically scanned the instruments. In seconds, his eyes locked on the attitude indicator. Jack’s eyes widened. Without the horizon to use as a reference, he had inadvertently pulled the control stick toward him, causing the plane to climb higher into the cloud bank. He was losing airspeed rapidly and approaching a stall. If left unchecked, the wings would lose their life, stall and he would spiral down, out of control in a maneuver called a spin. He had practiced the spin before in clear airspace, but he was now in dense clouds and low to the ground, creating a life threatening scenario.

Quickly, he moved the stick to its center position and watched the attitude indicator as the wings began to level. Moving the stick forward, he began to descend as he scanned the gauges rapidly to ensure the control of the plane.

Suddenly, he heard the pitch of the engine change once more. Scanning the gauges, he noticed his airspeed rapidly climbing.

“Dammit, I’m diving,” Jack hollered.

He hauled back the stick to slow his descent. Again, the pitch of the engine change. Jack scanned the gauges and realized he was now in a spiraling descent.

“Dammit. Watch the attitude indicator, you idiot,” Jack yelled to himself.

Jack hauled the stick in the opposite direction. In seconds, he was now spiraling the other way.

“Focus, Jack, focus,” he called to himself frantically.

He scanned the instruments again, then concentrated on the attitude indicator. He watched it carefully as he made subtle control inputs, leveling off the plane and forcing it into stable flight. Slowly, holding the stick steady, he pushed it forward and began his descent once again, this time ensuring he did not overreact to any further inputs.

Moments later, at 1,100 feet, he popped out below the clouds.

“Phew, that was close,” Jack shouted out loud. “That could have gotten ugly.”

Jack was now flying far below the safe altitude for the region. Anxious and scared, he immediately thought about making an emergency landing in one of the farmers’ fields.

“Hold on, you idiot. Don’t overreact. As long as you can see, you can fly,” he said, trying to soothe his fears.

Jack could see out in front of him clearly now. The only obstruction in the area was a radio tower that he knew he would easily miss. Nervously, he continued on.

“Whoa!” Jack shouted.

Again, without warning, all went white. Jack was now terrified. With flying conditions deteriorating so rapidly, even if he did find clear air again, he had no idea if he would be able to land. Jack’s mind started to race – but he quickly controlled his thoughts and slowed his thinking.

“Think this one through, Jack,” he said to himself. “Slow and methodical. Keep a cool head.”

Through beads of sweat, Jack focused on his gauges. Pushing the stick forward, slowly he descended and passed through 900 feet. This was now a dangerous situation. He couldn’t see anything. His altitude left no room for a planned emergency if his engine quit, and he was flying below the legal altitude allowed for that area.

At 700 feet, he popped out from under the cloud bank. His hands were shaking and he was having trouble controlling the plane. He knew he couldn’t continue on like this. Many had died doing exactly as he was doing at that very moment.

He checked his map for the closest airport to fly to. Everything seemed too far away. Jack realized he would have to make an ‘off airport’ landing in a field below. As he surveyed the landscape, he breathed a slight sigh of relief: the possibilities for landing were everywhere. The land was flat, plowed and without obstructions.

“Okay, how about that one?” Jack said, talking himself through the dangerous decision. “Too soft… maybe that one further up ahead,” he continued.