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.
