I guess my father has never changes his mind in what he told me eleven years earlier. That was that I would never learn to fly. Could never own an airplane. For sure never do anything with one if I had it.
Dejected, I tell my father that I was going down to the house. NOTHING HAS CHANGED. THIS TOWN IS STILL LIVING IN THE PAST! I would guess the only thing that would make people move out of their present is EXLAX!
If this is my father's attitude in relation to my being here, there is really no need to hurry to the house. My brothers and sisters are in school. My mother, like my father, would have little concern of how I arrived in Ekalaka. Certainly, they would never believe I flew in from California especially in the winter time. So, I can't share my excitement or accomplishments with anyone. Turns out, this feeling would continue to be a lifetime experience.
WHO IS THERE THAT WOULD FOREVER UNDERSTAND AND SHARE IN MY DREAMS?!? SOMEONE WILL!
All of my life would be an experience of being outside looking in and wanting to be accepted. Whether it was with relatives or friends, the experience was the same. Relatives seem to show no love or interest in me, and a friend is a rare person. A friend loves you all the time.
The fourteenth of November, I would find a new acquaintance and fly this land of south east Montana where I grew up. We would first fly west and pick up a few rolling hills, the short grass country, and the famed Powder River which is sometimes described as being about 400 miles long, a mile wide, and an inch deep. Too this to plow, too thick to drink, and it runs up hill from Texas. Powder River Let'er buck was a battle cry of the paratroopers in the second world war.
Tuesday, July 16, 2013
Monday, April 22, 2013
Page 20 -Only a Few Minutes to Home
A good nights rest. Up at a early morning hour for breakfast. Now, out to the airplane at sun up to fly over a band of sheep and let my distant cousin try out my plane. He liked it.
On my way home now. Only a few minutes to go. Soon, I land at the airport at Ekalaka. It is about a few miles from town. My dream has come true. Yes, daddy, I did learn to fly, and I own my very own airplane. Now, come and see what it has done for me.
Very carefully, I put the plane in a vacant hanger. I am so excited! I would not trade anyone for this moment.
I set out for town on foot. I had to walk as I told no one that I was coming home. I head for the New Life Bar because I am sure that my father will be there.
He was.
My father was surprised as he greeted me. Being in the Navy, I had precious few chances to come home to see my parents. "Harlan, how did you come in from Baker? Did you come in on the stage?" I quickly explained that I had flown into Ekalaka from San Mateo, California. In my own airplane! He didn't believe me! I was devastated. From the high of completing my journey to an unbelievable low of my father not believing me. I had come from California to Ekalaka with some overwhelming experiences along the way. Yet, my father doesn't believe me.
When I walked into the bar, my father was right where I thought he would be. He was sitting at a blackjack table playing solitaire. His brother at one end of the bar out cold having had too much to drink. Now, I am cold and ready for a cup of coffee. Pilot has been patiently waiting at the door of the bar for me to come back out. We have a cup to give fuel to the conversation. We talk about all things BUT my trip. I am dying to go back to my airplane, but my heart reminds me that I really want to see my mother. Oh, and my brothers and sisters.
On my way home now. Only a few minutes to go. Soon, I land at the airport at Ekalaka. It is about a few miles from town. My dream has come true. Yes, daddy, I did learn to fly, and I own my very own airplane. Now, come and see what it has done for me.
Very carefully, I put the plane in a vacant hanger. I am so excited! I would not trade anyone for this moment.
 |
| Photo by Beth Lang |
I set out for town on foot. I had to walk as I told no one that I was coming home. I head for the New Life Bar because I am sure that my father will be there.
He was.
My father was surprised as he greeted me. Being in the Navy, I had precious few chances to come home to see my parents. "Harlan, how did you come in from Baker? Did you come in on the stage?" I quickly explained that I had flown into Ekalaka from San Mateo, California. In my own airplane! He didn't believe me! I was devastated. From the high of completing my journey to an unbelievable low of my father not believing me. I had come from California to Ekalaka with some overwhelming experiences along the way. Yet, my father doesn't believe me.
When I walked into the bar, my father was right where I thought he would be. He was sitting at a blackjack table playing solitaire. His brother at one end of the bar out cold having had too much to drink. Now, I am cold and ready for a cup of coffee. Pilot has been patiently waiting at the door of the bar for me to come back out. We have a cup to give fuel to the conversation. We talk about all things BUT my trip. I am dying to go back to my airplane, but my heart reminds me that I really want to see my mother. Oh, and my brothers and sisters.
Wednesday, April 17, 2013
Page 19 - Night Fall Surrounds the Path of the Airplane
My mind now explores the magnitude of sounds that come from the airplane as night fall surrounds my path. In the distance, I think I see a light. Possibly, it is a car light. Gray to black colors below and all around me little detail as to what is really in front of me.
I see a stationary and a moving light. Is it a car? A truck? Is that Highway 212? As I get closer, I can see that the light is coming from a vehicle passing by a building as I pass over. I'd like to make a turn to the left but if I do, I might lose the building with the light. If I turn to the right, maybe I can land behind the light of the vehicle. There is no longer a horizon as I turn and come to a level I think the vehicle might be. There! There is the light again. I fly to the level of the light. I'm on target. A light in the window, with the words that say "Stockman's Bar. Hammond, Montana" I can see a man standing at a bar. I see that I'm exactly on course, but now where to go with the airplane?
No lights on the highway or anyway to tell me just how close the building is from the highway. One more time around and maybe I can land the plane using the light of the window to judge the level of the ground. I just want to go home! As I come around, the night has closed around me. I judge where north should be from the angle I crossed the top of the building, but where to go? I should of landed. A lot of guess work as I try to judge north from the few colors below. I'm not sure how high I am from the ground. There! I see a light spot on the ground. GOD BE WITH ME. I hope I don't hit a fence post as I touch down because Enough is enough!
Excited, but mentally exhausted. So close to home, but I will spend the night in the airplane. I hear a huff, huff. Clap. Clap. What is that? I get out of the plane and I see someone is riding up on a horse. All is well! I have landed on a ranch of a distant relative. I didn't see it when I landed but there was a hanger on this plot of land. We put TWO planes in a one airplane hanger. Cowboys can do that sort of thing.
I see a stationary and a moving light. Is it a car? A truck? Is that Highway 212? As I get closer, I can see that the light is coming from a vehicle passing by a building as I pass over. I'd like to make a turn to the left but if I do, I might lose the building with the light. If I turn to the right, maybe I can land behind the light of the vehicle. There is no longer a horizon as I turn and come to a level I think the vehicle might be. There! There is the light again. I fly to the level of the light. I'm on target. A light in the window, with the words that say "Stockman's Bar. Hammond, Montana" I can see a man standing at a bar. I see that I'm exactly on course, but now where to go with the airplane?
No lights on the highway or anyway to tell me just how close the building is from the highway. One more time around and maybe I can land the plane using the light of the window to judge the level of the ground. I just want to go home! As I come around, the night has closed around me. I judge where north should be from the angle I crossed the top of the building, but where to go? I should of landed. A lot of guess work as I try to judge north from the few colors below. I'm not sure how high I am from the ground. There! I see a light spot on the ground. GOD BE WITH ME. I hope I don't hit a fence post as I touch down because Enough is enough!
Excited, but mentally exhausted. So close to home, but I will spend the night in the airplane. I hear a huff, huff. Clap. Clap. What is that? I get out of the plane and I see someone is riding up on a horse. All is well! I have landed on a ranch of a distant relative. I didn't see it when I landed but there was a hanger on this plot of land. We put TWO planes in a one airplane hanger. Cowboys can do that sort of thing.
Friday, May 11, 2012
Page 18 - I have lost my sense of time
The sun is sinking below the horizon. No real land marks to guide me. So, to look at the chart is almost useless. To turn right or left is almost as useless. I continue north by northeast. Getting home has taken over me.
The light colored grasses are changing to dark colored grasses. The blue gray sage brush has changed to an even darker gray. There are no more shadows. The sun is down below the horizon now. The sun, like the compass, is like a light house that helps the ship's captains guide the ship from the shallows. I am for sure out of landmarks even though this country is more familiar than where I have been.
I haven't considered time as measured by a clock. I guess I only considered time by the shades of sunlight from dawn to sunset. Now, there is no more daylight. I have lost my sense of time. The only landmark that will let me know that I am in Montana is Highway 212, a two lane highway that runs from Belle Fourche to Miles City.
I can hardly see the compass, but I can still see the landscape below the airplane. If a dirt road would show up, I think I could still see it. Visibility to where I am going is narrowing fast, colors from day into night have changed as though controlled by a rheostat. Still, there is almost enough light that if I can get to the highway I would see it. There is just enough contrasting color to tell me if I am turning left or right. There is a dim light ahead, probably a radio tower. I will head for it as it is not too far to the right of my course. It is my guiding light. I think to myself that if something should happen and I accidentally wreck this airplane that someday when this light goes out that whoever should be the one to replace the light might accidentally find my airplane.
Now, I see a car light. The angle I see it from the nose of the plane lets me think it could by Highway 212. If I can only get to it before complete darkness sets in...
Monday, April 2, 2012
Page 17 - I won't make it on up to Ekalaka
As I get close enough, I tell the attendant that I would like to get the airplanie filled with gas as soon as possible because I would like to get on up to Ekalaka, MT before dark. He tells me that it is doubtful that I will make the Montana border by night fall. He informs me that after the sun sets night fall comes quickly in the fall and winter months, and that it will probably be dark by about six or close thereafter.
The airplane is serviced. My bill fold is handy as he tells me the cost of the gas. I have the amount to the penny. During all of this, I have remained sitting in the airplane. Paying out the window. Sort of like being at a drive thru.
After I have paid, I ask if there is anything between the gas pit and the direction I'm pointed. I am going to start my take off at the gas pit. He looks at me funny and tells me, "It's all yours. Go for it!" I hollered out my thanks as he propped the plane. It started on the first try. I wave as I carefully line the plane up in a direction that is clear of any possible surface debris. I ease the throttle forward as Piper, continental, Champion and Lewis all come together in crescendo as the airplane begins it roll to the northeast.
In seconds the plane is airborne. About 15 degrees is the compass heading. Land marks are few and a shallow climb to get all the airspeed and ground speed available. I leveled off about fifty feet above the ground. A few minutes after leaving Gillette, the Powder River is under my left wing tip. I'm still in the short grass country. Occassionaly, I see deer or antelope and a few head of cattle scattered here and there. Flying so low I can see long shadows from the sage brush and can almost smell it as I near home. I suppose the attendant was right after all. It will be sun down long before I make the Wyoming Montana border. For sure, I won't make it on up to Ekalaka that day as it will be dark.
The airplane is serviced. My bill fold is handy as he tells me the cost of the gas. I have the amount to the penny. During all of this, I have remained sitting in the airplane. Paying out the window. Sort of like being at a drive thru.
After I have paid, I ask if there is anything between the gas pit and the direction I'm pointed. I am going to start my take off at the gas pit. He looks at me funny and tells me, "It's all yours. Go for it!" I hollered out my thanks as he propped the plane. It started on the first try. I wave as I carefully line the plane up in a direction that is clear of any possible surface debris. I ease the throttle forward as Piper, continental, Champion and Lewis all come together in crescendo as the airplane begins it roll to the northeast.
In seconds the plane is airborne. About 15 degrees is the compass heading. Land marks are few and a shallow climb to get all the airspeed and ground speed available. I leveled off about fifty feet above the ground. A few minutes after leaving Gillette, the Powder River is under my left wing tip. I'm still in the short grass country. Occassionaly, I see deer or antelope and a few head of cattle scattered here and there. Flying so low I can see long shadows from the sage brush and can almost smell it as I near home. I suppose the attendant was right after all. It will be sun down long before I make the Wyoming Montana border. For sure, I won't make it on up to Ekalaka that day as it will be dark.
Sunday, February 19, 2012
Page 16 - I need all the daylight I can get
I'm at Casper, a more accommodating facility. I land and take on fuel and again, and I am on my way. It is nearly 4pm when I depart for Gillette, Wyoming. The cast afternoon sunlight tells me I need to make good time on this leg of the trip. Again, I am blessed. I follow a highway up. "Fly little airplane. Fly."
A few minutes after leaving Casper, I find myself in almost familiar territory. To the west of the route and near the route are the head waters of the Powder River that I surveyed in Montana and to the right of the route is the Belle Fourche River that will eventually flow through Bell Fourche, South Dakota. "Fly little airplane. Fly as fast as you can!"
The sun is getting toward the left wing tip as a I skim about a hundred feet above the ground. At times, 5000 ft is indicated on the altimeter. I see deer and antelope here and there as I race across the short grass country. I think, "Probably excellent sheep country."
Gillette is in sight. Only a light breeze as I see a runway right in front of me. I won't even circle as I now need all the daylight time I can get. The country side glistens. The air is clear. No snow anywhere, but mother nature has turned the green grasses from orange to a near gray.
My feelings are of exhiliration. Everything seems like it was all preplanned. This voyage is coming together like clockwork. The sun is still by the wing tip. I am ever so close to home and the conclusion of an eleven year old dream. At the same time, it might end a multitude of dreams I have had over the years about this very trip. Dreams where none end up in a successful trip to Ekalaka, Montana.
It is well that right now I travel alone as far as another person is concerned. They would never understand the anxious moments I have. How could so little mean so much as everything means to me right now? I would like to say "Yes! I did it!" But, I am not home yet. I feel the success of this trip has not really been mine, but of the Holy Spirit. I feel like there will be a day that I bend down on my knees giving thanks and praise and glory to the Lord for what He has done for me.
Landing at Gillette, the sun is nearer the wing tip than the horizon as I taxi off the runway and on to the ramp where there just happens to be one of the airport attendants standing and directing me to the gas pit.
A few minutes after leaving Casper, I find myself in almost familiar territory. To the west of the route and near the route are the head waters of the Powder River that I surveyed in Montana and to the right of the route is the Belle Fourche River that will eventually flow through Bell Fourche, South Dakota. "Fly little airplane. Fly as fast as you can!"
The sun is getting toward the left wing tip as a I skim about a hundred feet above the ground. At times, 5000 ft is indicated on the altimeter. I see deer and antelope here and there as I race across the short grass country. I think, "Probably excellent sheep country."
Gillette is in sight. Only a light breeze as I see a runway right in front of me. I won't even circle as I now need all the daylight time I can get. The country side glistens. The air is clear. No snow anywhere, but mother nature has turned the green grasses from orange to a near gray.
My feelings are of exhiliration. Everything seems like it was all preplanned. This voyage is coming together like clockwork. The sun is still by the wing tip. I am ever so close to home and the conclusion of an eleven year old dream. At the same time, it might end a multitude of dreams I have had over the years about this very trip. Dreams where none end up in a successful trip to Ekalaka, Montana.
It is well that right now I travel alone as far as another person is concerned. They would never understand the anxious moments I have. How could so little mean so much as everything means to me right now? I would like to say "Yes! I did it!" But, I am not home yet. I feel the success of this trip has not really been mine, but of the Holy Spirit. I feel like there will be a day that I bend down on my knees giving thanks and praise and glory to the Lord for what He has done for me.
Landing at Gillette, the sun is nearer the wing tip than the horizon as I taxi off the runway and on to the ramp where there just happens to be one of the airport attendants standing and directing me to the gas pit.
Saturday, November 26, 2011
Page 15 - Now, I think I am lost...
I am facinated by the vastness of the rugged, pristine beauty of the high country. Everything looks wild, untamed, and unspoiled. What peace I find as the little airplane takes me sailing through the air like a child on a magic carpet. I find myself day dreaming. I was so intoxicated with the whole experience that right now I think I am lost.
Pilots don't like to admit they have ever been lost while flying, but right now the compass shows to the northeast, my ultimate direction in going home. Now, I find myself coming up on a beautiful lake or reservoir. I couldn't be too far off course. I study my chart and confirm where I am at. The reservoir is called Pathfinder. It certainly helped me find where I wanted to be! I am right on course and about sixty miles southwest of Casper, Wyoming.
This has been an odyssey for the Vagabond, Pilot, and me. It seems that to turn the airplane to any point on the compass there is endless beauty. I fly by Independence Rock, a historic land mark on the Oregon Trail. This rock was named on July 4, 1830 in honor of the anniversary of the Declaration of Independence. I would suppose this land mark is still a welcome site for today's travelers in this area. "Harlan, you will never learn to fly, and for sure you will never own an airplane."
Pilots don't like to admit they have ever been lost while flying, but right now the compass shows to the northeast, my ultimate direction in going home. Now, I find myself coming up on a beautiful lake or reservoir. I couldn't be too far off course. I study my chart and confirm where I am at. The reservoir is called Pathfinder. It certainly helped me find where I wanted to be! I am right on course and about sixty miles southwest of Casper, Wyoming.
This has been an odyssey for the Vagabond, Pilot, and me. It seems that to turn the airplane to any point on the compass there is endless beauty. I fly by Independence Rock, a historic land mark on the Oregon Trail. This rock was named on July 4, 1830 in honor of the anniversary of the Declaration of Independence. I would suppose this land mark is still a welcome site for today's travelers in this area. "Harlan, you will never learn to fly, and for sure you will never own an airplane."
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)