Sunday, September 9, 2012

Every Fiber of My Being Ain't Cliche This Time

I love the man that I married to the very inner core of my being. Though the following pictures might cause one to think otherwise, I went through hell for him.  It may have been majestic hell, but it was nothing short of it.  

The story.

Jonathan is a man of ambition.  Far more ambition than I will every acquire in this life.  He wants to do and see things.  Gain life's experiences that are to be had.  I on the other hand, find life's richest joys holding still, sitting with my feet on the ground watching grass grow.  This isn't even a small exaggeration.

When we moved to Oregon Jonathan became aware that in a day's flight his little Cessna could carry him from the lowest place on earth to the highest place in the lower 48 states within a single day.  Come on now isn't that cool?  To do both in one day.  Who would dare to leave this life behind without seeing dirt really far down and dirt really high up all before you brush your teeth and tuck yourself back in bed.  And so he set off to run a 13 hour flight and see both.

The original plan was for Jonathan and his good buddy, and fellow pilot, Craig Vana to make the flight together but the day before the planned trip Craig was not longer able to make the flight.  I was adamant that he didn't fly solo.  He tried a few other buds but NO ONE could go with him so who was the sitting duck, me.  8:00 p.m. the night before the flight I called my sister in Redding and begged her to watch my children ALL day so I could make sure Jonathan didn't die on this flight.  I don't know what I was thinking.  A lot of help I was going to be.  She obliged and I dropped everything, put the kids in the car and reached Redding by 11:00 p.m. the night before the flight.

Saturday morning Jonathan was up early and flew to Redding to pick me up.  And so the adventure began.  The flight route was Grants Pass to Redding, Redding to Carson City, Carson City to Death Valley, Death Valley to Bishop, Bishop to Redding, Redding to Grants Pass.

Let me explain a little about flying.  There is something wonderful that happens the higher you fly.  The turbulence settles down when you get over about 10,000 feet.  This is a great cruising altitude.  The only problem is that when you go higher than that to keep things smooth you run low on one basic element, oxygen.  I get really motion sick so Jonathan was trying his best to keep us high and smooth.  We did fine for a bit but then the yawns kicked in.  I could not stop yawning no matter how hard I tried.  I checked my oxygen levels with a pulse oximeter and was a bit low so we dropped in altitude and enjoyed the bumpy ride.

Besides needing a nap mid-air, Redding to Carson City wasn't bad.  We landed fine in Carson City to fuel up.  As I was standing outside the plane while Jonathan was fueling I took a good look at this 60 year old plane and told Jonathan his plane was a piece of junk.  It really is.  Insulted, he looked at me and said, "She may be molting, but she is still a majestic bird."  So I jumped back in Madame Molt and we took off again.

Death Valley, the world's lowest point, might as well be near the earth's core.  It is SO HOT and so WICKED TURBULENT flying into that place I barfed my sweet heart out.  I was very thankful Jonathan swiped a few barf bags from the hospital because they were used multiple times on this flight.  The best part of throwing up in turbulence is that as you press your face against the bag to create a seal each time the plane is bucked up and down the barf splashes back into your face.  There is a repeated motion of heave and splash back, heave and splash back.  Mmmmm, one to remember.

We landed.  It is so hot in Death Valley if you sit down on a toilet right after it has been flushed your backside gets steamed from the water that rushes in.  That was one of the weirdest sensations I have every experienced.  Maybe I should have titled this post, "What Happens in Death Valley Stays in Death Valley."  We had a hamburger and I bought mint gum to ease the nausea for the next leg and we took off.  Death Valley has a really short runway and no place to get gas.  If you are fully loaded with gas you can't get enough lift to take off so we had to fly with limited gas to get off the ground.  Settles the mind doesn't it?

Next venue was Mt. Whitney.  The highest altitude in the continental U.S.  This leg really was beautiful.  The sun was nestled in the clouds, the mountains were majestic, the plane was cool as we climbed higher and higher and my nerves flying over those peaks were hammered.  When I saw the altimeter get to 13,000 feet the fear of low oxygen, mountain updrafts and downdrafts, and dying was more than I could take.  I started throwing up again.  And what does the pilot do now?  He lets the plane fly itself and takes pictures of me throwing up.  Some things are meant for viewing on home computers only.  I spared you the action shots and share only the enlarged barf bag.

 I was so done flying at this point I wanted to cry.  We made it over the mountain peaks but now we REALLY needed gas.  The turbulence had settled but I sat for the next 45 minutes watching the fuel needle bounce on one very specific letter of the alphabet, "E".  I wasn't okay with that.  Jonathan was 100% confident we would be fine but all I saw was a white needle not just pointing to, but touching that big "E".  White knuckled I sat.  You know, enjoying the scenery.  

Unthwarted by the "E" we made it to Bishop.  I got out of the plane laid down on the asphalt runway and fell asleep.  Jonathan fueled up and chatted for awhile with some German tourists watching little planes take off and land.  I had to get back in that heap of tin once more.  Only one more leg, 3 more hours and I'd be DONE.  I would have rather delivered triplets in a covered wagon but I got back in.  Because the Lord loves me the stretch back to Redding was fairly smooth, flat land.  No mountain peaks and drafts, no extreme temps, just normal flying.  Believe it or not I didn't throw up on this stretch.

We landed in Redding as the full moon was shining.  Done.  Never again.

He better know how much I love him. 


Sun shining bright

Tahoe

Mt. Whitney

Carson City

I still like him.

The snack of champion pilots.

Can't remember the name of this crater.

Death Valley, very exciting.

Yes, the bag.

Lowest place on earth.

So happy to be there.

Negative altimeter reading.

Mt. Whitney

If you throw up enough the smiles return.

The full moon that shone the way home.

Flying above the clouds... AKA "yawning" altitude.

Nothing but mountain peaks to fly over.  Settles the nerves.

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1 comment:

Sandi said...

Oh my goodness! You are such a good wife, and he is lucky to have you! If I had started barfing it would have made my husband start and all they would have found of us is smouldering wreckage and the faint smell of puke.

I'm glad you both lived!