Final Flight

"You had better get in right away. The weather is coming in fast."
We were not surprised because whenever the sun was shining in Ocean Falls, it meant that rain was just around the corner. But we also knew from the last few years, that flights in and out of town were cancelled without notice more often than not. We just wanted to get going and not worry about where to stay if we were delayed in town for another day or two.
The pilot threw our few bags into the hold and ushered us on board, me in the co-pilot's seat and Lis and my sister Jan in the back.
He quickly throttled up and because of our light load, we were airborne in no time at all. We looked back over our shoulders, gave a quick wave to our friends on the dock, and took a last look at what had been our home, and what we would probably never see again.
We were at a thousand feet by the time we rounded Cousin's inlet and headed up the Dean Channel to King Island. And there it was. A grey wall. I knew that storms looked worse from a distance, especially when the perspective was from the sunshine. We hit the wall in a few minutes and at first it did not look that bad. The visibility was decent and the pilot seemed to have confidence.
But it was only the leading edge of the storm and as we progressed, the plane began to get tossed around and we could barely make out the water below, and certainly not the mountains on either side. I was not too concerned because I knew the Beaver had pontoons and there was no shortage of water to land on should we get into serious trouble.
Just as the plane began to lose altitude, I stated the source of my confidence to the pilot who answered me by pointing out the huge white caps in the ocean below. I then realised, and knew, that a plane the size of the Beaver could not land in such rough seas. And he was indeed flying lower because he wanted to keep sight of the water.
"It is worse that I thought it would be. Maybe we should turn back."
I did not like what I was hearing.
After an hour of indecision, suddenly, the plane banked steeply and I blurted out, "What?"
After what seemed like forever, we were nearing Port Hardy and the visibility was deteriorating rapidly.
"I am going to have to 'island hop' the rest of the way in. I cannot see the next island so I will circle this one until I can catch a glimpse of the next one."
The steep and sudden banking of the plane resulted in a retching sound from behind me. Lis was in very early pregnancy, plus air sick, and she had been holding the little brown bag under her chin for the last twenty minutes already. She was now making good use of it. I was concerned for her but could not get to her because it was critical, at that time, that we remain belted in.
So, we island hopped for the next 30 minutes, sometimes in a gentle bank because the Island was large, and more often very steeply as the Island was so small and we did not want to lose sight of it. My eyes were strained and tired, desperately trying to distinguish shapes of trees or cliffs in the flat grey light. The pilot seemed to be depending on me a lot to help spot the terrain.
As we circled a spit of land for the sixth time, the pilot, who seemed to be in a quandary, finally opened up to me what the situation was.
There was no turning back. We were low on fuel, and he "just knew" that the Port Hardy harbour was just two miles across open water from where we were now. But, he wanted to see the goal before reaching for it. I wanted for him to see it too.
"I'm going for it!" he finally exclaimed. "It will be alright."
As I glanced over at him, taking my eyes off the greyness around us for an instant, I did not like the beads of perspiration I saw on his brow and upper lip.
I was too young to die. Don't we all say that? But it was true in this case. I had a wife and a child on the way. We were about to start a new life. My sister was in my care. I didn't have a will. I can't swim. These and another million thoughts flashed through my mind as we set a straight course into the grey unknown.
I cannot tell you how tense the next few moments were. What I can tell you is that there were four people praying and I guess that was a quorum because God saw fit to present to us the most incredible sight I have ever seen in my entire life. The light suddenly increased and almost instantly, we were in sunshine, but the most incredible part was that right there in front of our faces was the sleepy little harbour village of Port Hardy and we were heading straight for the seaplane docks, at just the right altitude and speed.
The relief and euphoria in that little cabin was palpable. Even Lis took her face out of the bag for an instant to see the answer to our prayers.
After much celebratory back slapping and congratulating, we transferred to a regular plane and resumed our flight to Vancouver, a very dull and uneventful happening. We were grateful for that because our adrenalin reserves needed replenishing.
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