Read Online Hidden Courage (Atlantis) by Christopher David Petersen - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Christopher David Petersen
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dramatically 3,000 feet or so below the plateau, then gradually descended over rough, rocky terrain to the valley floor below. As Jack flew slowly by it, he mentally etched it into his memory. Checking his altitude, then scanning back to the snowfield, Jack estimated that it sat at an elevation of nearly 10,000 feet.
“Wow, that's over seven thousand feet of climbing from the plateau to the top of the mountain,” Jack said to himself. “That's a butt load of climbing.”
Rechecking his gauges, Jack noticed his fuel level at the halfway mark. He'd been flying for almost two hours and decided that he wasn’t going to take any unnecessary chances in such a hostile environment. With the push of a couple of buttons on the two GPS receivers, Jack dialed in his return route to the airport.
“A gas gauge is only accurate when it’s on empty,” Jack said, coining the old aviation adage.
He glanced back at the snowfield, then the ridge, and worked his eyes up the fluted snow cliffs to the summit, taking in the striking profile of the mountain one last time for the day.
“Amazing,” he said to himself.
As he turned to fly out of the valley, he looked nervously at the saddle between the two mountains that had nearly killed him only an hour earlier. Now flying at 13,000 feet, he was well above the danger zone and he breathed a sigh of relief. He made a mental note not to repeat the same mistake the following day when he returned.
Flying back, passing from one valley to the next, he was filled with euphoria. He had finally seen the unnamed mountain he had spotted in a magazine, and it was even more impressive than anything he imagined. Fighting the turbulence, he lost himself in the memory of Destination B.
The Adventure:
DAY 1
Jack examined the skis where the floats once sat. During the design phase of his plane, he knew he would need to be able to swap out the floats for skis, so he created a mechanism for quick disconnect. He was able to quickly remove the floats and attach the skis with a single bolt and cotter pin, a procedure that took less than ten minutes to complete. With the skis and tires in place and with a flick of a lever, he could transition from tires to skis and back to tires again in an instant.
Jack stood back and looked at his plane. He had neatly repacked most of his gear into it, leaving only the pilot’s seat empty. Having checked the weather for the next few days, he found that a slow moving low-pressure front was moving in through the area and would prevent any travel by the following day.
Jack’s nervousness pierced through varying degrees of severity. He could almost see his heart pounding through his fleece pullover.
“Well, Jack, this is it. It’s time to grow some nads,” he said to himself, hoping the humor would relieve some of his anxiety.
He took one last look around the airport, exhaled deeply and hopped into his plane. With his flight sectional laid out on top of his gear next to him, he scanned the map one more time for completeness.
“Stop procrastinating. you idiot. You didn’t fly all this way to admire the view,” Jack scolded himself once more.
“Clear,” he hollered out his side window.
Jack reached down and began to turn the key. He watched the propeller windmill momentarily, then the engine came alive. Immediately, he glanced over to the engine’s gauges. Everything was in the green and operating normally. With a quick check of the area around him, he added a touch of power and began to roll.
Jack taxied to the beginning of the runway, then ran through his checklists to ensure he hadn’t forgotten anything. A few minutes later, he stowed the lists and crept onto the runway, lining up with the centerline.
Looking up into the clear skies, he checked for any aircraft that might be flying near the airport. There were none. Jack hesitated momentarily, second guessing his
“Wow, that's over seven thousand feet of climbing from the plateau to the top of the mountain,” Jack said to himself. “That's a butt load of climbing.”
Rechecking his gauges, Jack noticed his fuel level at the halfway mark. He'd been flying for almost two hours and decided that he wasn’t going to take any unnecessary chances in such a hostile environment. With the push of a couple of buttons on the two GPS receivers, Jack dialed in his return route to the airport.
“A gas gauge is only accurate when it’s on empty,” Jack said, coining the old aviation adage.
He glanced back at the snowfield, then the ridge, and worked his eyes up the fluted snow cliffs to the summit, taking in the striking profile of the mountain one last time for the day.
“Amazing,” he said to himself.
As he turned to fly out of the valley, he looked nervously at the saddle between the two mountains that had nearly killed him only an hour earlier. Now flying at 13,000 feet, he was well above the danger zone and he breathed a sigh of relief. He made a mental note not to repeat the same mistake the following day when he returned.
Flying back, passing from one valley to the next, he was filled with euphoria. He had finally seen the unnamed mountain he had spotted in a magazine, and it was even more impressive than anything he imagined. Fighting the turbulence, he lost himself in the memory of Destination B.
The Adventure:
DAY 1
Jack examined the skis where the floats once sat. During the design phase of his plane, he knew he would need to be able to swap out the floats for skis, so he created a mechanism for quick disconnect. He was able to quickly remove the floats and attach the skis with a single bolt and cotter pin, a procedure that took less than ten minutes to complete. With the skis and tires in place and with a flick of a lever, he could transition from tires to skis and back to tires again in an instant.
Jack stood back and looked at his plane. He had neatly repacked most of his gear into it, leaving only the pilot’s seat empty. Having checked the weather for the next few days, he found that a slow moving low-pressure front was moving in through the area and would prevent any travel by the following day.
Jack’s nervousness pierced through varying degrees of severity. He could almost see his heart pounding through his fleece pullover.
“Well, Jack, this is it. It’s time to grow some nads,” he said to himself, hoping the humor would relieve some of his anxiety.
He took one last look around the airport, exhaled deeply and hopped into his plane. With his flight sectional laid out on top of his gear next to him, he scanned the map one more time for completeness.
“Stop procrastinating. you idiot. You didn’t fly all this way to admire the view,” Jack scolded himself once more.
“Clear,” he hollered out his side window.
Jack reached down and began to turn the key. He watched the propeller windmill momentarily, then the engine came alive. Immediately, he glanced over to the engine’s gauges. Everything was in the green and operating normally. With a quick check of the area around him, he added a touch of power and began to roll.
Jack taxied to the beginning of the runway, then ran through his checklists to ensure he hadn’t forgotten anything. A few minutes later, he stowed the lists and crept onto the runway, lining up with the centerline.
Looking up into the clear skies, he checked for any aircraft that might be flying near the airport. There were none. Jack hesitated momentarily, second guessing his
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