Lost? | Previous Challenge Entry

how it works

TITLE: Lost? | Previous Challenge Entry
By Robyn Harbour
07/22/16
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The pilot spread the map out in the cockpit, he glanced at the map, looked out of the window, then back at the map. He seemed unsure of where he was as he checked and double checked his position and then checked again.It was un-nerving.

Flying involves a lot of trust, trust that the airplane is airworthy and has been regularly maintained, especially important in an emerging third world country. Trust that the pilot is well trained and wants to get home safely just as much as I do.

I had been feeling uneasy ever since we boarded the Islander, a small eight seater, twin engine plane that ferried people through the many islands of Vanuatu archipelago. The Islander was my least favourite plane. Four rows of two seats, no aisle, a long strut hanging from each wing with a wheel on the bottom. The engines were mounted on the wings and roared incessantly, too loud to hear the person beside you talking.

As missionaries we regularly traveled in a various assortment of small planes. This particular pilot we had never seen before, he seemed exceptionally young and had most probably come to the islands to get experience and increase his flying hours before approaching a larger airline. His youth worried me as he was the only pilot.

We were still climbing when he removed the earphones that connected him to the control tower back on the main island, a half hour flight away. He then put in the earphones attached to his ipod. I had been a pilot myself prior to my marriage nearly forty years ago and I knew that he was to be in contact with the control tower at all times.

Fifteen minutes into our half hour flight the map had come out. I glanced out the window expecting to see the long line of smaller islands that dotted the horizon on the way to the main island that was home to us. All I could see was blue haze while the pilot continued to scan the horizon.

I started to panic, where were we? Somewhere over the vast stretch of water between us and Brisbane. ‘Lord’ I whispered. ‘If we go down, please let me die on impact, I do not want to be trapped in a sinking plane, or worse still, in a life jacket on the open sea at the mercy of sharks.’

Everything was surreal. This was my last hour on earth, Heaven was beckoning, I tried to stay calm. I wrote on a piece of paper to my husband; Where are we? I cannot see the islands. He held my hand assuring me that everything would be alright, but I did not believe him.

The flight continued, I kept glancing out the window anxiously, waiting for the plane to run out of fuel. I was absolutely convinced that this was the end and we would eventually go down into the sea.

Then my husband’s voice broke into my surreal world, ‘Look, there is our island coming up in the distance.’ I looked and sure enough it was coming into view. I had forgotten that blue haze has the same effect as a whiteout in the snow.

I thanked God that my very young pilot, though unsure of where he was, trusted his compass and stayed on course.

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