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This is Fiction (an oldie but a goodie from Dan Nickens) |
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Jon Ladd - Mar 05,2005
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- Jan 10, 2001 View | Viewers
Categories: Tall Tales
A cold wind blew in from the northwest. It had been that way for days. The cold brought the first real winter to Florida in years. Despite the cold, bleak day there was flying to be done.
The nasty weather had kept us grounded too long. It had been weeks since we had been able to break out on a weekend. As we gathered at the airport, the chill breeze could not hold some of us back.
“I’ll bet the water in your bilge is frozen,” Frank said. “You’ll have to chip it out with a chisel if you want to go flying today.”
“That’s easy,” I flipped back at him. “I’ll just use the blow torch to heat it up a bit.”
“Let me know when you get ready to start,” he replied. “Once that torch hits all the fumes from that plastic gasoline tank it’ll look like the Fourth of July in January.”
“If you’re really worried,” I told him, “I’ll just leave the ice. We can put the beer down there to keep it cold. I promised Sam a ride in the Searey. We’re headed to Cedar Key for some lunch. Want to join us?”
“Not me. I remember what happened to the Challenger. If that can happen to NASA’s technological wonder, just think what could happen to your little two place seaplane.”
I looked at Sam. Sam wasn’t a pilot and he had seemed dubious about the concept of flying in a little airplane that looked like a boat with wings. I was surprised that he had asked to go at all. “You can ignore Frank,” I told him. “He’s the airport curmudgeon. It’s his job to spread gloom and despair.”
Unfortunately Sam had heard a little of Frank’s extensive resume while I was getting the airplane ready. All I got as an acknowledgment was a weak grin. I reckoned I’d better get him in the air soon.
“Just let me off load a few more things,” I told him “and we’ll be ready.” I took the anchor out and set it aside.
Frank laughed. “How much of that 65 pounds of survival gear are you going to leave behind?”
“I ate too many pies over the holiday. All of it goes. We aren’t going anywhere we’ll need it anyway.”
“Famous last words,” Frank said shaking his head. “I guess you at least learned to keep your cell phone handy.”
“Yep. You’ll be sure to get a call if we need anything.”
“Hey, don’t call me. I’ll be sitting in front of the fireplace sipping on a hot toddy with Mustang Sally. Call Triple A.”
“That’s the great thing about this little country airport.” I told Sam. “All the support I get is for free.”
When we taxied out for takeoff I saw that the windsock was stretched out in the wind. I thought briefly about just putting the airplane back in the hangar and going to Zellie’s for lunch. At the moment of indecision, the sun broke through one of the cracks in the clouds. The canopy immediately amplified its warmth. I smiled and told Sam, “Looks like the gods want us to fly.”
As we headed west towards the coast the sky became more inviting. The sun broke through in more places. The many lakes sparkled its reflection through the clean, crisp air.
Sam seemed little buoyed by the sunshine. The sun beams had sparked an increasing number of thermals. From the corner of my eye I could see him tightly grasp the seat at each bump. He didn’t seem to enjoy the view from 1500’.
We had a twenty-knot headwind slowing us down. I started thinking about cutting our trip short. “Maybe we should stop at Crystal River and get a hamburger,” I thought. It would save us an hour of flying, but the fast food joint was not known for haughty quisine. I didn’t relish the thought of what Sam’s stomach might do with the food.
The radio interrupted my reasoning. “Searey 220WT, are you on the frequency?”
The voice was easily recognizable. “Roger. Is that you, Rich?” I replied.
“Affirmative. Where are you headed?”
“Cedar Key. We’re looking for some lunch.”
“Mind if we join up? I’ve got my daughter, Sarah with me. We’re looking for a destination.”
“Great. What are you flying today?” Rich had a stable of airplanes.
“I’m in the Super Cub. We can join up over Crystal River.”
“That’s a plan.”
Over the springs at Crystal River I dropped down to 500’ to show Sam the crowd of manatees. They were bunched into the clear water flowing from the Floridan aquifer. At seventy-two degrees the water was like a natural hot tub for the big gray mammals. It was much warmer than any of the surrounding water. Sam seemed to recover a little enthusiasm with their viewing.
I saw the small yellow airplane north of the local airport. “I’ve got you at my three o’clock, Rich.”
“I’ve got you too. Let’s join up and head down the river.”
Impromptu formation flying was not on my agenda. “I’ll follow you in trail,” I replied.
I took up a position about a half-mile behind him. We followed him out to the gulf.
The radio crackled back to life. “Dan, I’m going to follow the shoreline rather than cut across the bay. We didn’t pack our life jackets today.”
“We’ve got two we will let you borrow if you need them,” I replied with a laugh.
There was a moment’s delay. “Roger. I guess as long as you are with us, we can save some time and take the shortcut.”
That caused me to pause. I hadn’t been serious. I would have preferred the shoreline. The shoreline has miles and miles of undeveloped Florida marshland. It is like a miniature version of the Everglades. “Still,” I thought, “we are late for lunch. It’s only eighteen miles of water. That shouldn’t be a problem.”
After we crossed the shoreline, Rich descended to a low altitude just above the water. I followed him down.
From the lower perspective, the waves were impressive. White streaks of foam formed straight lines where the wind whipped across the waves. Usually the waters of the Gulf are still and clear. Dolphin and rays can often be seen cruising just below the surface. Not today. The surface was gray and opaque.
Sam had been silent since we left the coast. “It’s a great to be in a seaplane when you’re over water,” I offered. I was pretty sure that he was worried about the altitude. “From this height, if there is a problem we can just land in the water.”
“What about the other airplane?” Sam asked.
“He would have a bit harder time of it,” I replied flippantly. “He can land slow enough, however, that it would be a survivable landing.”
“Hmmm,” was Sam’s barely audible reply.
Looking again at the water surface I thought about my blithe comments. The waves looked like they were easily three, maybe four, feet high. The swells were almost the length of my hull. I unconsciously squirmed a bit in my seat.
I thought I felt a roughness in the airplane. I checked the engine instruments. “See, they’re all in the green,” I thought. “Automatic roughness from being over the water, right?”
A blur of yellow flashed across the corner of my eye. The nose of the Cub was dropping towards the water. “What’s Rich doing now?” I thought. I was mostly focused on his abrupt maneuver when I spotted several pelicans at my altitude. I pulled the airplane up.
We easily topped the scattering, descending birds. Despite my short climb, we were closing from above on Rich’s airplane. His wings were rocking irregularly. Then the nose came up. I veered to pass him on his left.
In the next moment a geyser of water erupted from under the Cub. It had the appearance of an angry gray explosion. The grayness enveloped the yellow airplane.
“What was that?” Sam yelled. I didn’t answer, throwing the airplane around sharply to the left.
I couldn’t believe what I saw. The tail of the little Cub was sticking straight up out of the boiling water. It then quickly dropped down to float nose low in the water.
The wind had blown me well back of the airplane as I continued my tight, low altitude circle. “What happened?” Sam asked urgently, almost hysterically.
“I don’t know.” I paused, then thinking out loud said, “We’ve got to help them. Do you see them?”
“No! They must still be in the airplane!”
He was right. The high wing was mostly in the water now. Waves washed over it mercilessly, wracking the airplane with every hit. I couldn’t see the door, but there was no one in sight.
My mind was racing. “We’ve got to get them out!”
“Can you land in those waves?”
“Yes,” I said immediately and surely, but with little resolve. “We have to notify someone,” I thought. While circling to keep the airplane in sight I fumbled with the radio. “Why didn’t you keep the second channel tuned to the emergency frequency?” my mind screamed at the bumbling fingers.
Looking back at the airplane it now looked almost awash. I kept hoping to see someone pop out. This couldn’t really be happening I kept thinking.
Finally I got the frequency. “Mayday, Mayday, anyone on this channel. There’s an airplane down six miles off the Crystal River power plant. Mayday.” The only answer was a maddening silence.
Time was running out for Rich and his daughter. Soon that drafty cockpit would be completely flooded.
I kept calling out on the radio as I assessed my options. I decided that no one was answering because I was too low. If I climbed up and called the Cub could be gone, and the occupant’s with it. Rich’s smiling face seemed to appear and beside it his pretty daughter. Then their image faded away. They would be gone if I didn’t get down quickly. There was no time to climb.
“We’re going to land beside the airplane,” I told Sam. “Do you remember how I told you to get out in an emergency?”
“Yes, but you’re kidding, right?”
“Snug your belts, put your hand on the latch and be ready to release it if you have to. Get your headset off now.” I didn’t want to hear anything he had to say now anyway.
I jerked my headset off and threw it to the floor. I had circled back behind the stricken Cub now. It was almost fully awash.
I pulled the power back and put in one notch of flaps as we turned into the wind. Even with the strong wind and our low altitude, I could see that our landing would be well beyond the airplane. I quickly added another notch of flaps.
The waves loomed as we sank downward. “My god, they’re too big!” I realized. “I can’t land in that!” I could see the Searey striking a wave at stalling speed, only to tip nose down into the oncoming wall of water. I was certain the airplane would flip.
“I have to land,” I kept telling myself. “The Cub didn’t flip. Come around for another approach. Use all three notches of flap. Stall it on the water. With the wind our relative speed should be very slow. And be quick! There’s no time to debate it!”
“We could all die right here,” I heard myself say. “You can take the risk but Sam didn’t sign up for this.”
I looked quickly at Sam. He was pale. He was an adult, middle-aged male. He had willingly climbed aboard. That’s enough reason, I decided.
“Still, it will do Rich no good if we crash along side him,” my mind screamed at me. Maybe it was the sight of those waves again. Those never-ending lines of liquid battering rams.
“Did you do your checklist? What! Are you crazy? There’s no time for checklists!”
“Yes there is! There is always time to land safely! You must.”
“The gear is up and I’m slowing down. That’s enough!”
The waves! I felt in my gut that the Searey wouldn’t survive them.
We were now turned fully into the wind at low altitude. We were very close to the Cub.
“Crap! Land this thing!” Instead I added power and continued my turn. When I was parallel to the waves I chopped the throttle. I yelled out loud, “Hold On!”
Just above the water I started pulling the nose up. I held the right wing low into the wind. “If I can land just behind a crest line. If I can, that’s what I’ll do.” The airplane was slipping, however, and the waves were moving. I held the nose up. We were going to land wherever the gods willed now.
The sharpness of the impact seemed to shove my spine into my skull. We bounced back into the air and the nose started to rise. I pushed it back towards the water just as we hit another crest. The windshield went opaque under a curtain of water. The airplane lurched sickeningly to the right.
Sunlight broke through the window. It was quickly extinguished by more water. Then it came back even stronger, but now water streamed through the edge of the canopy.
Even though the airplane was rocking, I could tell the right wing was too low. It had to be in the water!
It took a moment to realize that we were still floating, albeit in a precarious position. I looked across Sam to the right wing. It was in and out of the water. The right float swung at an awkward angle, broken from its lateral brace.
We were alive and mostly floating! “Are you Okay?” I asked Sam. My voice seemed to be only a screech. He nodded his head uncertainly.
I remembered Rich. I looked around frantically for signs of the yellow airplane. I panicked when I couldn’t see it. “Do you see the airplane?” I yelled. Sam started looking too.
Finally I saw a yellow rudder sitting above the water about a hundred yards behind us on Sam’s side. “There it is! It’s still floating,” I yelled. That was another relief.
Waves struck us every few seconds. Most washed high up on the windshield. In addition to their impact I could feel the rhythmic vibration of the engine. “My god,” I thought. “We still have power!”
I felt water swirling around my feet. I saw Sam look down at the same time. There was plenty of water in the cockpit. I quickly turned on the bilge pump.
I didn’t know how long it had been since Rich had gone down. A long time by my now chilling estimate.
We had to get over there. I applied power and kicked the rudder to turn. The right wing dropped sharply into the water. A wave hit and it seemed as if we were diving into the sea. I quickly pulled the throttle back and we bounced back up into the wet sunshine. We were not going to turn the airplane in these waves and wind.
At least we were drifting quickly backwards towards the Cub’s rudder. We would have to float back I decided. At the rate we were closing, though, the wait was intolerable.
“Sam,” I said quickly, looking him in the eyes. “I need you to help me.”
His wide-eyed stare seemed none to reassuring.
“I’m going to try and swim over to the Cub. I need you to stay in the airplane and keep it close by.”
“How…How…How can I do that? I don’t…don’t know how.”
“You can do it. The airplane will drift backwards. When you are even with the Cub, push this throttle forward just a little. Like this,” I showed him.
He shook his head.
I was adamant. “Yes, you can do this. Just push the throttle forward enough to keep yourself from drifting. If you start going forward, pull it back to idle. It’s easy. You have to do it.”
“I’ll try.”
“I also want you to put on this headset. Push this button to activate the radio. Call out ‘Mayday, Mayday’ then wait for an answer. Keep trying until you hear someone.”
Sam nodded his head this time. He had a far away look, but he seemed resolved to do it.
“I’m going to swim over to the airplane. I’ll be back as soon as I can.” Sam nodded his head again.
I snugged the straps on my inflatable life jacket. The Cub was getting closer, but it still looked like a long swim.
I pulled the canopy open just a wave washed by, filling my seat with frigid water. I shivered uncontrollably. “Close the canopy when I’m out,” I told Sam.
Without further thought, I jumped into the water. It was like an ice bath. I could feel its pricks all over my body. I sucked in a mouthful of seawater.
Looking back at the Searey I saw it listing to the right, the wing in the water. “Switch seats.” I yelled while trying to hold on to the wing strut. Sam didn’t move. “You’ll need to move to this side to keep the right wing out of the water.” He nodded and climbed over into my seat. That helped right the airplane, at least mostly.
I had to force myself to start swimming in the general direction of the Cub. I struggled to kick my shoes off. That at least seemed to help. It was hard to see anything from between the waves. I finally saw a swatch of yellow that was the tail and started swimming hard.
It had just been too long. Dread filled me as I realized that Rich and his daughter had been in this water for so long. “The air could be trapped in the cockpit,” I rationalized. “They’ve got to be okay.” I swam harder, my heart pounding out of my chest.
It was like swimming though icy molasses. I just couldn’t seem to make any progress. While I was in slow motion, time raced like a released balloon, swirling and jetting as the air slipped away.
After an impossible amount of time a wave lifted me up and I could see the Cub almost within reach. “Hey!” I yelled. I thought I saw two heads next to the partially submerged body of the airplane. “Hey! I’m coming!”
There was no answer. I swam in a frenzy. “Yes! Yes!” I could definitely see two heads. One was waving.
“Help! Hurry! My dad is really hurt!” Sarah cried out.
I grabbed the Cub’s almost submerged wing tip and pulled myself forward. I could see the two of them hanging on to the tail section. Rich waived weakly in my direction. His head was covered in blood.
Sarah was sobbing. “We crashed! We almost drowned.”
Rich reached over and squeezed her shoulder. “Everything will be okay. We’re alright.”
They didn’t look all right. Rich had a bright, scarlet gash on his head that was streaming watery blood. The blood spread like red paint over the yellow skin of the sinking airplane, only to be washed clean as waves rolled over it.
I pulled myself over to Rich. “How bad are you hurt, Rich?” I asked.
“I hit my head on the panel. It doesn’t hurt that much.” He smiled weakly. “Did you see those pelicans? We hit one. I couldn’t see to fly. I think we stalled. I don’t believe it happened. I’m sure the bird is dead.”
“Yeah, well don’t worry about it. There are plenty of birds left.”
Sarah had no visible injury. “Are you okay?” I asked her. “I’m okay. I’m just a little cold. Can you help my dad?”
It was a struggle to stay beside them. The waves kept pushing me away. Rich’s head nodded unsteadily with the swaying airplane. His eyes closed, only to reopen partially.
I unbuckled my life vest. “Rich, I want you to put this on.”
“Give it to Sarah.”
“No. Sarah is fine. You put it on. Now. I’ll help you get it on.”
My fingers fumbled with the snap. They were so numb I couldn’t really feel them. It seemed to take forever to get the jacket off. Putting it on Rich was almost impossible in the water. Sarah helped steady him as we got it around him.
“Rich, hold on man. I’m going to pull the inflation tap.” I’d never done it before. I wasn’t too sure how to do it. I wasn’t sure it would really work. “Just pull the yellow tab,” I thought, “how hard could that be.”
Finding the yellow tab and bracing myself to pull it was another trick. I pulled it as hard as I could. The vest popped open with a horrible tearing sound as it rapidly filled with air. I couldn’t believe it. It really worked. That brought a surge of enthusiasm to my wrestling match with the water.
Now the blood splashed across the bright yellow front of the inflated vest. “That’s got to stop,” I thought. I caught myself glancing around, half expecting to see a gray shark fin cutting through the water towards us.
“Focus,” I silently admonished myself. “Rich,” I said, “I want you to wrap my sweater around your head.” I started pulling it off.
“That’ll look pretty silly,” he said weakly.
“It’ll look better than your head.” He smiled.
“Help me, Sarah. I want to cover up the cut so we can apply some pressure to it.” Sarah helped steady the now wobbly Rich.
We wrapped the body of the sweater over his head and tried to tie the arms underneath. It wasn’t working at all. Neither of us could make it stay put. “Try holding it in place Rich. You need to put some pressure right here.” He seemed to be able to at least keep it in place.
“All right. We’re making progress now,” I said. “Yeah, right,” I thought. We were soaking wet, washing about in numbing water, blood everywhere, clinging precariously to a sinking airplane in the middle of the Gulf of Mexico.
I shivered. The water temperature had to be in the fifties. A teenager had died from hypothermia in a boat on a Florida lake just a few days earlier. I didn’t know how much longer we had until the cold got us all.
“Now what?” I thought gloomily.
Then I noticed the Searey. It was only about fifty feet away. I could see it rise and fall with the waves. The canopy glistened as sheets of water ran off of it. It moved, however, a little closer with every splash. I couldn’t believe it. Sam was working the throttle, inching it closer. What a beautiful sight it was, white and glistening.
The Cub seemed in no danger of sinking. Even so, I thought it better to get everyone over to the Searey. “How in the heck am I going to do that?” I thought. I thought about the old problem of the fox and chicken crossing the river. I wished I’d figured that one out before now.
I was really worried that Rich would lose consciousness. His head rolled sloppily with every wave.
“Okay, Rich. I want you to swim with me over to the Searey.”
His eyes opened wide. “No. You take Sarah first.” His look told me there was to be no argument.
I thought about the other life preserver. Sam had it in the airplane. “I could go get it,” I thought. Instead I asked Sarah, “Are you a good swimmer?”
“Yes.”
“You gotta love Florida girls,” I thought. “Okay,” I said. “I want you to help me take your dad over to the seaplane. Can you do that?”
“I can.” She was no longer crying.
At first Rich was insistent on “helping” us swim. After a few minutes he just let us drag him. Sarah wasn’t kidding about her swimming. She was pulling us all.
As we closed on the Searey I started to worry about Sam. The airplane was rising and falling mightily with each successive wave. I didn’t know how he would handle the situation. If he hit the throttle when we were nearby he could run over us.
I was also worried about the right wing. Without the float I could see it occasionally hitting the water.
“Sarah. We need to swim to the other side of the airplane. Be careful about getting hit by the hull or the strut.” She didn’t answer, just nodded her head.
When we were a few feet away I could see Sam’s face through the canopy. He was staring intently at us from the pilot’s seat. I waved at him. He nodded his head, not moving his hands from the throttle.
With the airplane riding up and down on the waves, we had to time our approach. After a wave passed by, I yelled, “Now!” Even Rich kicked harder.
I grabbed onto the raised landing gear with one hand. I pulled the others towards the airplane just as another wave hit. I just barely was able to hold on. Sarah grabbed onto the strut and we pushed Rich between the wheel and the hull.
We just floated for a minute, catching our breaths. Sam opened the canopy. “Hi,” he said lamely.
I laughed out loud. “Hi, yourself. Mind if we join you?”
He smiled. “What do you want me to do?” he asked.
I thought that was a reasonable question under the circumstances. I didn’t want to tell him I had no idea. “Nothing. You’re doing great. Just leave the engine alone for now,” I told him. He nodded.
An almost steady stream of water coming from the Searey’s bilge pump sprayed over Rich’s back. The sweater had come loose from Rich’s head during the swim. His head was still seeping blood. I thought it would be a good idea to get him into the airplane as soon as possible.
“Rich. Do you think you can climb into the airplane?” I asked.
He looked at the opening. It was only about six inches above the water. He shook his head. “No. I’m not getting in the airplane.”
“Why not?”
“Put Sarah in. I can’t get in anyway.”
I thought he might be right. Even under the best of circumstances it was hard to climb into the cockpit from the water.
I looked at Sarah. Her bluish lips were trembling uncontrollably. That settled it.
I yelled at Sam. “Turn the switch key off. Kill the engine.” He did. That brought some quiet. The only sound was the thump of waves slapping against the hull.
“Sarah, you need to swim around to the other side and get into the airplane. Sam can help you.” She just nodded, then pulled herself forward around the hull against the battering waves.
After Sarah was onboard I asked Sam about the radio. “I haven’t heard anyone,” he said.
I couldn’t believe it. Airliners fly over the coast all the time on the way to Tampa, Miami and Orlando. Most of them monitor the emergency channels routinely.
I pulled myself up to the cockpit and looked at the radio. It was set to the emergency channel. I couldn’t understand why no one had heard Sam’s calls.
Then I remembered the emergency beacon. “Sam. Look on the right side of the dash. There should be a small red button labeled ELT. Do you see it?”
He looked, then said, “No. What does it look like?” I tried to think so I could describe it.
“Sarah found it,” Sam blurted out before I could say anything.
“Great. Tell her to push the small black button beside the light to activate it. You should see the red light blinking if it works.”
“It’s working! I hear a signal in the headset. It’s really loud.”
“Turn down the volume. There’s an adjustment under the radio.” He nodded.
I settled back down in the water beside Rich. “Hang on, Rich.” I repositioned his sweater bandage. “Somebody will get here soon.”
But I wasn’t confident of that. There were so many false ELT alarms. I figured it would take at least an hour from the time someone heard it.
It was so damned cold! I couldn’t feel my feet anymore. The worst were my fingers. They were so numb I was having a hard time hanging on.
Rich seemed to be having a really hard time keeping his eyes open. Every time a wave passed he would almost lose his grip. I thought it might be good to keep him talking.
“A cup of that Cedar Key clam chowder would taste pretty good right now, wouldn’t it Rich?”
“Yeah.” There was a pause. Even with the water splashing I could see tears rolling down his cheek. “I almost killed Sarah.”
“No you didn’t. It was an accident. You’ll both be okay.”
“No, no, no,” he moaned. “I shouldn’t have been so close to the water. I didn’t see the pelican until the last minute. I couldn’t miss it.”
“You just never know about some things, Rich. It could happen to anyone at anytime.”
“I was sure that we were going to drown. I couldn’t even unbuckle myself when the water was pouring in. At least Sarah got free and opened the door.”
“And you got out. You both got out.”
“Is she okay? Did she get hurt?”
“She’s fine. Not a scratch. She’s sitting high and dry in the cockpit, getting a sun tan right now.”
“It sure is cold.”
“Yeah it is. Just think about that hot clam chowder.”
“You better call my wife, okay. I’m sure she’s worried.”
That stunned me. How could I have forgotten the phone? Then I panicked. The phone was wrapped in a plastic baggie and stuck in a pocket in the life preserver Rich had on. It was completely under water.
I tried to act casual. “That’s a great idea, Rich. Just let me get the phone out of your pocket.”
“There’s a phone in my pocket?”
“You betcha. Just hold on. I’ll get it.” I felt the lump on the jacket and zipped the pocket open. I tried to carefully remove the package without tearing it.
I lifted it up out of the water. I held it up in the air and let the sunshine pour through it. I laughed out loud. It was dry.
“No worries, now Rich! We’ll just call a water taxi to take us home!”
I handed the phone inside to Sam. He laughed. “Call us a ride, Sam.”
“Yes, sir. I think I will.”
I watched anxiously as he took the phone out and turned it on. I was praying that he would have a signal. Then he smiled. I sank back down in the water beside Rich.
Sam yelled at me, “I’ve got the Orlando emergency operator. She wants to know where we are.”
“Tell her we’re about six miles northwest of the Crystal River power plant. See if Sarah can work the GPS. That will give them our exact position. Tell them to hurry.”
“Got it,” Sam said. “They’re sending a helicopter.”
“Do you hear that Rich? We’re going to get to do some helicopter flying today!” That brought a smile.
The rush from the good news kept us talking for five or ten minutes. After that, it was an effort to keep Rich from closing his eyes.
Riding up and down on the waves hanging onto the airplane seemed surrealistic. It was a beautiful day. The sky was crystal clear, the sun was shining and we were out swimming in the icy water. None of it seemed to fit inside of any reasonable universe.
You could almost feel the vibration in the water from the helicopter’s approach before hearing it. It loomed as large as a truck as it circled us. The wind from its rotors whipped across us.
I could see guys in wet suits hanging out of the large side door. On it’s second circuit, one of them dropped into the water in front of us. He quickly swam over to us.
The swimmer grabbed onto the airplane’s strut. “I’m Ensign Kraft with the United States Coast Guard. It looks like you guys could use some help.”
“Man, are we glad to see you guys!”
“Is anyone hurt?”
“Yes. Rich here has a head injury. Everyone else is just cold.”
Rich was the first to go. The swimmer pulled him out to a harness that lifted him up into the helicopter. Sarah and Sam followed him.
When they left, I crawled into the airplane. I just wanted to get out of the water as soon as possible. It was almost comfortable in the cocoon-like canopy.
The swimmer returned. “Are you ready to go?” he asked.
I had been thinking about that. “No. I’m alright. I’m going to stay with the airplane.”
That caused quite a bit of consternation. It apparently did not fit their mission profile. I finally said, “Tell the pilot I’m shutting down the ELT and will talk to him on the guard channel.”
I explained, “I’m not hurt. The airplane is in no danger of sinking. I’m going to stay with it a tow boat arrives.”
“We don’t know when that will be, sir. Any tow will have to come from a commercial operator in Crystal River.”
“Roger. Just take care of your new passengers. I’ll wait.” Then they were gone.
I sat in the airplane soaking up the sun inside the heat magnification of the canopy. After a few minutes I started shivering uncontrollably. I curled up in the seat and just sat there, listening to waves slapping against the hull.
After fifteen or twenty minutes, I got restless. The sun was getting low on the horizon. There was no towboat in sight.
The waves seemed to have relaxed their pounding. I could still see wind streaks, but the waves didn’t look so big now: maybe no more than two feet.
“I’ll bet I can fly this thing out of here,” I thought.
“Are you crazy? You have a broken float and a soaked airplane. You’re half frozen. A towboat is on the way to pick you up. I’ll bet the battery has run down and the engine won’t even start!”
It did start. The airplane held its place in the water instead of retreating backwards. The throbbing of the engine was reassuring.
I checked the bilge. It was reasonably dry.
I checked the wings and tail section. Nothing looked damaged except for the float. It was no problem keeping the airplane level since all the weight was on my side.
“I reckon the airplane might not survive the pounding it would take by the tow boat riding back in to Crystal River.” That seemed a reasonable supposition. “The factory says waves of eighteen inches are maximum for the airplane, but I think I’ve heard of someone flying off two foot seas.”
“You can’t be serious! Right now you are safe, drying out and warming up. If you try to take off in these seas you’re likely to break the hull, flip over and drown. Don’t be stupid!”
That self-advice worked for about thirty seconds. “I’ll just try it and see what happens. I can always stop if it gets too rough.”
I waited for a wave to pass and quickly pushed the throttle forward. The lightly loaded airplane leapt ahead. I used a little left aileron to keep the right wing clear of the water at first. That was no problem.
The first wave didn’t seem so bad even though it washed completely over the cockpit. I heard the impact on the propeller, but I kept going.
The next wave knocked the stuffing out of us. It felt like hitting a brick wall. We kept going.
The third wave pitched us up into the air. We were nowhere near flying speed so I pushed the nose back down and held it level. When we hit I heard a cracking sound. “Is the hull breaking up?” I kept going.
The next time we were pitched up out of the water we were so close to flying. My stomach sank as we fell back towards the awful impact. I reached up and pulled the flap handle down below its full position.
The airplane staggered forward. This time the impact with the water was a little lighter. I didn’t hear any crackling of fiberglass, anyway.
On the next toss we were flying, just barely, on the ragged edge of a stall. The airplane started skimming the tips of the waves. I eased off on the flaps and the airplane accelerated a little.
We were one foot high and flying. The rebel yell must have been horrific. Fortunately no one was around to be injured.
I gingerly continued to release the flaps. The airplane accelerated and soared upward. We were free again!
The thought briefly crossed my mind to look for the Cub. I finally decided it didn’t matter anymore and turned for home.
The Crystal River airport was such a short distance away. When we were sitting on the water, six miles seemed an impossible distance. Up in the air, it was a four-minute flight.
In deference to the abuse I’d given her, I treated the Searey to a soft landing. I pulled up to the terminal building and made a few calls. The towboat was recalled. Rich had a slight concussion and some stitches. Nothing major.
Inspection of the airplane showed it to be completely salt encrusted. The crackling I heard on takeoff was the pilot side panel. It was nothing that couldn’t be repaired.
The only thing left to do was have a celebratory drink. The Dairy Queen at the Crystal River airport serves long, tall ice cream “Blizzards.” That kind of cold I could handle.
The sun was setting when I pushed the airplane back into its hangar we had left so long ago. That’s when I remembered Frank telling me, “anytime you can put the airplane away to fly again tomorrow is a good day.”
Copyright 2001 Dan Nickens
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Dave Lima - Mar 06,2005
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i can't believe i actually read that whole story!
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Dan Nickens - Mar 07,2005
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Could be time for the pepto, Dave.
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Terry Mac Neill - Mar 06,2005
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DAMN,<br /><br />Dan, you have done it again !!!<br /><br />You never cease to amaze me, I too read the whole story, I was cold, worried and wanted to help.<br /><br />Dan, I said it before, I'll say it again ....Dan, you da man
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Dan Nickens - Mar 07,2005
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The first time I put it on the web as a two part story. Most folks after reading the first half said, 'Dan, you da dead man.'
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Robert Lee - Mar 06,2005
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I read it to for the first time. Dan, your talents are many but I thinks word smithing is your greatest. I was very entertained. Jon thanks for bring this back for those of us who missed it the first time.
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Dan Nickens - Mar 07,2005
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Well, I'm at a loss for words now, Robert. Thanks.
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Jon Ladd - Mar 06,2005
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Robert, You're most welcome. I hope Dan doesn't object, but when I read it again the other day I realized that many of our members haven't had the opportunity to read it. If Dan does object I'll get Bret to Whup his ass!
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Dan Nickens - Mar 07,2005
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Bring him on, Jon. I've been looking for an excuse to lay one on him.
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Kenneth Leonard - Mar 07,2005
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Great story Dan! Read it all too.
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Dan Nickens - Mar 07,2005
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Tell the truth, Ken...you did skip to end, didn't you?
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John Robert Dunlop - Mar 07,2005
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Thanks Jon! That was a first time for me.. Dan's writing tallent is amazing!
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Dan Nickens - Mar 07,2005
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Thank you, John, but I'm afraid it's a bit long for the 'Tipsy' files.
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Chet Tims - Mar 07,2005
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Dave Lima, you stole my line !!! ( I couldn't believe it either !! )<br />Great job Dan - sorry I missed it the first time ...
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Dan Nickens - Mar 07,2005
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Why couldn't you believe it, Chet? Come on now. A guy in a C hull can take on the big waves.
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Chet Tims - Mar 08,2005
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NO Dan -- I meant I couldn't believe that I READ IT ALL !!! ....just like a good book.....I couldn't hit the 'back' button !!
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Bret Smith - Mar 07,2005
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Stop encouraging him... <br /><br />I had a non-flying friend bring up this story Saturday night at dinner. While talking about the SeaRey he paused and said, 'man I remember that story you sent me back when you were building... about that guy, and a plane going down, and he rescued the guy and his daughter... that was amazing! That sounds like a tough little plane you got there. That must make you feel good - to know what it CAN take if it had too' I was too embarassed to clear the matter up. I just nodded, 'yep'.
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Dan Nickens - Mar 07,2005
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Reminds me of 1974, Bret. My brother Don skidded off a rain slick highway and turned over his MG in a ditch. He crawled out unhurt and called home to get some help. I arrived just before the newspaper reporter. The next day the front page had a picture of the wreck with me standing nearby. The headline was 'Brother pulls brother from wreck.' Some folks believe anything that's written. Don still hasn't gotten over his embarrasment.
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Dave Lima - Mar 07,2005
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the best line of the whole story, paragraph 8 'its his job to spread gloom and despair' i'm still laughing over that one!
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