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Authors: Christopher David Petersen
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of two-hundred-eighty degrees and crossed from land to Chalk Sound, a large shallow bay on the west side of the main island. Upon reaching one thousand feet in elevation, Jack turned to his predetermined heading of one hundred eighty degrees, the track that would take him directly to the last known location of the sub-sea artifact.
Scanning his GPS's, Jack noted the time to his destination: forty-three minutes. As the land behind him grew smaller by the minute, he replayed the upcoming landing over and over in his mind. Outside the plane, as he continually scanned for aircraft, he kept an eye on the ocean's surface, watching for any sudden change in wave heights.
Close into shore, Jack had seen a few pleasure boats traveling around the shallows of the island’s bays. Further out at sea, the pleasure boats vanished and were replaced by commercial fishing boats engaged in their day's occupation. Soon though, as the land became no longer visible, even these boats too, disappeared from sight.
Jack looked out the windows around him. Miles from land, devoid of civilization, he began to feel the reality of isolation. He had forgotten what it was like to be this vulnerable, and the thought of it left him feeling very uneasy. He listened intently to the drone of the engine, using its steady purr as a means to calm his fears, but with each passing minute, apprehension grew more conspicuous and distinct.
Trying to ease his nerves, Jack divided his attention between the horizon and the instruments panel. His eyes moved from instrument to instrument, analyzing, interpreting, then moving on to the next. As minutes ticked by, his focus became more concentrated and intense, slowly quieting his fears.
Suddenly, Jack heard the sound of alarms sending a startling jolt through his body. Quickly, he readjusted his focus on the source of the distraction. Prior to the flight, he had programmed both GPS's to sound an alarm one mile from his destination. He was now there, just one mile from his intended point of landing.
Jack's heart began to pound wildly. He looked out at the water below. The last time he’d flown over this spot, he could just about see to the bottom. Now, years later, the water was much darker and ominous, sending a chill through his body.
Jack reduced his power and pitched the nose over to enter a descent. He opted to not land immediately, instead deciding to fly over his point of intended landing, continuing to circle back around to land when his nerves soothed a bit.
At one hundred feet above the water, Jack lowered his flaps and added more power to maintain altitude. Holding his heading for another minute, he heard the GPS's sound the alarm again. Peering out his window, he looked down. Jack strained his eyes but saw nothing except the eerie darkness of deep water.
Flying past his destination, he said aloud, “Well, this is it, Amigo. All your money's on black."
He waited five minutes, then entered a one hundred eighty-degree turn. Coming back about, he lined his plane up on the heading instructed on the two GPS's: three hundred sixty degrees. This was it. He was motivated and determined. He reduced the power once more and lowered the nose of the plane again, entering a shallow descent.
Jack took out his water landing check list and started checking off the items as he completed the task: "Power setting, twelve hundred rpm's. Heading three sixty. Flaps, full. Water rudder, check."
He looked out his side window again. The ocean's surface held small irregularities and tiny waves, creating a condition perfect for landing. He was getting closer by the second and needed to time his landing so that he touched down before his destination. After touchdown, he would float to his final point and drop his anchor to hold that position. It was going to be a difficult feat of timing and coordination. Any miscalculation would require just that much more swimming when he eventually started his dive.
Alternating his focus between
Scanning his GPS's, Jack noted the time to his destination: forty-three minutes. As the land behind him grew smaller by the minute, he replayed the upcoming landing over and over in his mind. Outside the plane, as he continually scanned for aircraft, he kept an eye on the ocean's surface, watching for any sudden change in wave heights.
Close into shore, Jack had seen a few pleasure boats traveling around the shallows of the island’s bays. Further out at sea, the pleasure boats vanished and were replaced by commercial fishing boats engaged in their day's occupation. Soon though, as the land became no longer visible, even these boats too, disappeared from sight.
Jack looked out the windows around him. Miles from land, devoid of civilization, he began to feel the reality of isolation. He had forgotten what it was like to be this vulnerable, and the thought of it left him feeling very uneasy. He listened intently to the drone of the engine, using its steady purr as a means to calm his fears, but with each passing minute, apprehension grew more conspicuous and distinct.
Trying to ease his nerves, Jack divided his attention between the horizon and the instruments panel. His eyes moved from instrument to instrument, analyzing, interpreting, then moving on to the next. As minutes ticked by, his focus became more concentrated and intense, slowly quieting his fears.
Suddenly, Jack heard the sound of alarms sending a startling jolt through his body. Quickly, he readjusted his focus on the source of the distraction. Prior to the flight, he had programmed both GPS's to sound an alarm one mile from his destination. He was now there, just one mile from his intended point of landing.
Jack's heart began to pound wildly. He looked out at the water below. The last time he’d flown over this spot, he could just about see to the bottom. Now, years later, the water was much darker and ominous, sending a chill through his body.
Jack reduced his power and pitched the nose over to enter a descent. He opted to not land immediately, instead deciding to fly over his point of intended landing, continuing to circle back around to land when his nerves soothed a bit.
At one hundred feet above the water, Jack lowered his flaps and added more power to maintain altitude. Holding his heading for another minute, he heard the GPS's sound the alarm again. Peering out his window, he looked down. Jack strained his eyes but saw nothing except the eerie darkness of deep water.
Flying past his destination, he said aloud, “Well, this is it, Amigo. All your money's on black."
He waited five minutes, then entered a one hundred eighty-degree turn. Coming back about, he lined his plane up on the heading instructed on the two GPS's: three hundred sixty degrees. This was it. He was motivated and determined. He reduced the power once more and lowered the nose of the plane again, entering a shallow descent.
Jack took out his water landing check list and started checking off the items as he completed the task: "Power setting, twelve hundred rpm's. Heading three sixty. Flaps, full. Water rudder, check."
He looked out his side window again. The ocean's surface held small irregularities and tiny waves, creating a condition perfect for landing. He was getting closer by the second and needed to time his landing so that he touched down before his destination. After touchdown, he would float to his final point and drop his anchor to hold that position. It was going to be a difficult feat of timing and coordination. Any miscalculation would require just that much more swimming when he eventually started his dive.
Alternating his focus between
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