“Just passing over Meander River now.” Mark Kirby’s voice crackled over the Cessna’s ancient intercom system. He peered out over the console and sighed as he banked the plane to the southwest, fed up with the tedium of keeping the river in perfect view from the right side of the plane. Crap, he thought, Tony will have us into British Columbia before he’s satisfied. It was stifling hot in the little plane and, as he shifted around in the sagging pilot’s seat, the dull ache in his lower back turned to stabbing pain. Only 24, he felt more like 60, largely due to the endless days spent in this cramped, uncomfortable, small plane. He could hardly wait until he had enough flying experience to apply for an airline job.
They’d already been following the river for nearly two hours, and were well across the border into Alberta now - even if they did turn back and fly cross country, it would be a good 90 minutes back to the airport in Hay River. Beside Mark in the right front passenger seat, 72 year old Tony Currie strained to see the river below. Short, squat, sun gleaming off his bald head, he hunched over until his crooked nose almost touched the side window. “Keep going!” he barked, sensing Mark’s reluctance. “We still need to get a look at the Chinchaga!” A retired government engineer, Tony was the town of Hay River’s resident expert on river breakup. Each spring he volunteered his time, experience and advice as the town braced itself for yet another flood. This long flight south into the upper extremities of the Hay River basin was an annual ritual for him in his river breakup monitoring efforts.
Behind Tony, Ellie Ward sighed, and looked out at the endless expanse of trees. Five feet tall and on the wrong side of both 50 years and 150 pounds, Ellie was a professor from Morris University in Alberta, whose scientific research program focused on ice jams and flood forecasting in Canada’s north. She struggled to lean across the empty seat beside her to look out the scratched little window on her left, but saw no ice jams in view. Trees, she thought. Nothing but bloody trees.
Behind Ellie her grad student, Brenda Patterson, sat sideways - her tall, rail thin body curled in the fetal position. With eyes closed and arms wrapped around her knees, she was fighting the nausea that plagued her whenever she had to do these ice mapping flights. Today’s marathon had definitely been the worst one yet. With only the one seat to choose from in the cramped back compartment, she was forced to endure the sun’s full force as it beat in on her through the right side window. There were no air vents back here and she felt like she was suffocating. On top of that, the wind had picked up in the last 15 minutes and the ride was getting distinctly bumpy. She debated asking Ellie to turn back, knowing Ellie would do it in a heartbeat - she only had to ask. But she didn’t want to look like a wuss in front of all the others. Why was it that she was the only one who ever got sick on these stupid flights? Her stomach pitched and rolled with the plane, threatening to betray her with an eruption of vomit. She pictured her half digested lunch splattered all over the window and the back of poor Ellie’s head. Oooo, bad image, she thought. Mark had told her to focus on the horizon, but she just couldn’t bring herself to open her eyes. She groaned and prayed that her stomach would settle. What on earth had possessed her to eat a cheeseburger and fries before coming on this damn flight?
“No snow - melt’s all done,” Ellie said, hoping Tony would take the hint. Her eyes followed the river upstream as far as she could see; it went well off into the wooded distance. Aside from a few remnant pieces along the banks, there was no ice to be seen in the river. From Ellie’s perspective, they were done out here; in fact, they’d been done for a good half hour. There was nothing to see in the upper basin; the river breakup was long since over and the snowmelt runoff was receding. With absolutely no scientific value to her in flying further upstream, she stressed over the possibility that they could be missing something important back near town - like an ice jam flood. She mentally kicked herself for agreeing to come along on this interminable flight.
Tony heard Ellie talking but didn’t catch the gist of it - he didn’t even try. Between the steady drone of the plane’s engine and the background static on the old headset he wore, he couldn’t pick up anything these two were saying. He’d given up on trying to make sense of their chatter about five minutes into the flight. He could guess what it was about though - she probably wanted to turn back to Hay River. No stick-to-it-ness, these bloody southerners, he thought. There was no way he was going to come all the way the hell up here and then turn back before finishing. How stupid would that be?
Ellie sighed again, resigned to waiting it out for as long as it took. Tony was cantankerous at the best of times, but she was still fond of him. He’d been watching this river breakup for more than 30 years now and she appreciated how generous he’d been with his time and knowledge. So, even though she was paying for this flight, she wasn’t prepared to upset him by insisting that they should turn back. Still, it drove her crazy not knowing what was going on back in town. She checked her cell phone for the thousandth time - hoping to see a text message from one of her other grad students, but there was no coverage this far out into the bush. Damn, she thought, anything could be happening back in town by n...
The plane lurched wildly, cutting short the thought and she was thrown forward for a second, then slammed back against her seat. The engine clanked once, coughed twice, then cut out completely. Black smoke belched from the nose as the prop shuddered to a stop. Mark, jolted out of the daze induced by the hot, stuffy cabin, began pushing and pulling knobs all over the control panel, his feet working the rudder pedals as the plane started to pitch and yaw.
“What’s going on?” Brenda cried, jolting upright. “Mark! What’s happening?”
Mark ignored her as he hit the radio button. “Mayday, mayday, mayday. This is Tango, Golf, Echo, Bravo. Tango, Golf, Echo, Bravo. Tango, Golf, Echo, Bravo. Forty kilometers southeast of Meander River, four souls on board. Engine failure - forced landing… Tango, Golf, Echo, Bravo.” Then, remembering that the others in the plane could hear him, he flicked the switch to cut the cabin intercom off from the radio communications. Tony watched as Mark’s lips continued moving, relaying the mayday message several times.
Ellie turned to look at Brenda, now sitting bolt upright in her seat, tightening her seatbelt. Brenda’s eyes were wide and her mouth was puckered into a tight ‘o’. Ellie figured that more than one of her own orifices was doing the exact same thing.
Brenda found her voice. “Forced landing? Ellie, what does he mean by…?”
The intercom snapped to life, interrupting her. “Stow your gear in your knapsacks and put them in the back,” Mark ordered. “Check that your seatbelts are securely fastened.” He flicked the button and went back to his radio calls.
Ellie began stuffing all of the loose bits of equipment that had been on her lap and on the seat beside her - camera, GPS, cell phone, laptop, voice recorder, camcorder and field book - into her own knapsack. She looked over her shoulder at Brenda. “Can you,” she paused, her voice cracking, cleared her throat and tried again. “Can you put this on the floor beside you?” Brenda, ramrod stiff and eyes glazed, grabbed the bag and dragged it over the seat back. It clumped to the floor.
---
The plane was gliding now, gradually losing altitude. Mark was still talking continuously into his mike, but with the engines silent, it came through to the three passengers as a low murmur through their heavy headsets. They jumped as Mark again switched back over to the intercom, his voice bursting through the silence of the whistling descent.
“Everybody, listen up. The engine is dead - I can’t restart it. We’re going to have to land somewhere out here and wait for help. There’s nothing to worry about, we’re all fine and I can land it easily with no engine.”
The other three gaped at Mark as he said this; all simultaneously thinking the same thing. We’re going to crash!
“Ideally, I’d like to set it down on a straight stretch of road, but we may have to settle for a clearing,” Mark continued. “So take a look around you - there’s no time to go hunting, so we need to decide on a spot in the next few seconds. If we can’t see it now, then we can’t use it.”
“Brenda, do you want to look to the rear?” Ellie asked. “I can look sideways.”
“Good idea,” Mark said. “Tony and I will look forward.”
“There’s a road behind us to the right!” Brenda said - her nose pressed to the window. “It disappears behind the plane. It’s a winding road though.”
“I can see it coming around from the back and up to a patch of bald ground off to the left there,” Ellie added. “Looks like it leads into an area that’s been stripped by logging.” She stretched across the empty seat beside her, straining to see. “It’s pretty winding on this side, too - but there is a short straight stretch just before the clearing.”
Mark banked to the left and turned to look over his left shoulder. “Shit!” he said. “It’s on the side of a hill!”
Ellie was back at the right window. “There’s nothing over here on the right for sure,” she said. “Bush as far as the eye can see. Tony - do you see anything out ahead?” Tony had no trouble hearing her now, with the engine silent.
“Goddamned trees! What do you think?” he snorted. Then he turned to Mark. “You really think you can land this piece of junk without killing all of us?”
Brenda’s responding whimper was barely audible, but Ellie caught it and turned to squeeze her knee. “Don’t worry, we’re going to be fine.” Brenda nodded, but her eyes betrayed her disbelief. Ellie couldn’t say much - she wished she could believe it herself.
“I’ll do my best,” Mark said. “Let’s just hope that last straight stretch of road is long enough.” He knew it wasn’t, but there was no point worrying everyone even more by admitting that. There weren’t any other options.
“Okay, here we go,” Mark said, banking the plane to the left. “This is what I need you all to do. First, sit facing straight forward, and tighten your seat belts until you squeak. Ellie, Brenda - did you get all your gear stowed? We don’t need projectiles flying around the cabin as we land.”
“Yup. It’s done,” Ellie said, mentally noting that nothing would be expected to fly around the cabin if this was actually going to be a “landing’. She didn’t put voice to the thought though; Brenda was already hyperventilating over the intercom.
“Okay, good. Put on your jackets, hat and mitts.”
“I haven’t got any goddamn hat and mitts,” Tony complained, but Mark ignored him.
“Now, remember the first aid kit is under my seat, the fire extinguisher is here between the two front seats.” He pointed to the red cylinder clamped to the floor between him and Tony. “The survival kit is in the tail; so is the ELT. It should activate automatically when we land…”
When we crash, Ellie thought, pulling her Sherpa hat on and stuffing her hair up under it.
“ELT?” Brenda asked.
“Emergency locator transmitter!” Mark shot back. “Christ, Brenda - didn’t you listen to a word of my safety briefing? I don’t have time for this!”
“Oh right, sorry…”
“As soon as we’re safely on the ground, we need to get everyone out of the plane and get all of the useful equipment and supplies a little ways away from it.”
In case there’s a fire, Ellie thought.
“If anything happens to me, remember to check that the ELT has activated - the light should come on and start to flash. Do you all remember how to turn it on if you need to?” Brenda and Ellie confirmed; Tony didn’t answer. He was staring out the front window, mesmerized.
“Tony! Pay attention!” Mark elbowed him, then continued. “Be sure to stay near the plane. It’s the only way people can find you. Don’t start wandering off, no matter how long it takes for help to come. We’re too far from Meander River to walk back there anyway. So just stay put by the plane and keep together.”
“What do you mean, no matter how long it takes for them to come?” Brenda asked, the pitch of her voice elevating a notch. “I thought you called the Hay River airport? Haven’t they already sent help?”
Mark didn’t answer, focusing all of his attention on setting up his approach. He didn’t really want to answer.
“Mark?” Ellie said, she too sounded a bit more alarmed. “You did get a hold of someone, didn’t you?”
“Of course he didn’t!” Tony snorted. “That radio can’t reach all the way back to Hay River and there’s nothing else for 200 miles! He’s been talking to himself.”
“Oh God… Mark, is that true?” Ellie asked.
“Yes,” Mark admitted. “We’re too far from anywhere for anyone to pick up our call.”
“Ooooh shit,” Brenda gasped in response to this news.
“Don’t freak out on me now! My boss has done this flight with Tony dozens of times. He knows exactly where we were going and that we’ve been following the river.”
“Yes, but we’re not following the river anymore,” Ellie said.
“Okay, enough already!” Mark cut her off. They were getting quite low now. “I’ve got to line up my final approach here and I need to concentrate. Ellie, Tony - take off your glasses and put them in a seat or coat pocket. If any of you have any sharp objects in your pockets, stuff them in the seat pocket, too. …false teeth, partial plates, whatever… take them out now.” Brenda and Tony put thumbs to mouths.
“Okay Tony, I need you to unlatch your door. Don’t open it - just release the latch.”
Tony struggled with it, but the catch was stiff and wouldn’t release.
“Forget it Tony, just get ready to land - okay everyone, this is it! Put your head on your knees, cross your arms over your head and brace yourselves. No more talking - I need to concentrate now.”
Brenda, Ellie and Tony did as told.
Shit, shit, shit, thought Ellie, her face pressed to her knees, her heart thumping. I should have told Mark to turn back a half hour ago. Why am I always such a bloody wimp? Why can I never speak up for myself? Damn, damn, damn…
Shit! Mark thought, his heart thumping, too. He was nearing tree top level flying low over the winding road, lining up with the straight segment out ahead. The clearing at the end of the little road was littered with logging debris and three foot high tree stumps stuck up everywhere. He prayed to God for a miracle - that he could get the plane safely on the ground and stopped, before the road ran out. At least we’re landing upwind, he thought. Otherwise I’d really be in deep ca-ca… Oh ya, like I’m not already in deep ca-ca. He made his “mayday’ call one last time - dictating his coordinates as he read them off the GPS, and then prepared for final. Power back, full flaps… He mentally went through his landing checklist.
He eased the plane down onto the dirt logging road, relieved that it was semi-level despite being cut into the side of the hill. As soon as the wheels touched the ground he pushed the toes of both feet onto the tops of the rudder pedals, braking as hard as he could. The plane bounced a few times on the rough road, veering from side to side in reaction to the heavy braking. Like the others, Mark was hyperventilating now, too. Beside him, Tony sat up and looked straight ahead. “Head down, Tony!” Mark yelled, but Tony ignored him - his gaze transfixed.
“Jesus, Mary and Joseph!” Tony swore. “The field’s full of giant stumps!”
“Shut up, Tony and put your goddamn head down!” Mark hollered back at him, as the plane burst out of the trees and into the opening. The ground sloped sharply to the right here. Mark worked the rudder pedals, desperately trying to weave in and around stumps of varying heights, but they were too closely spaced and the plane was not sufficiently maneuverable. “Shit!” he said, as the left wheel hit one. The plane tipped to the right and began to roll onto the wing. There was still enough forward momentum to make the plane tip forward as well and it started to cartwheel. Mark, helpless to do anything to control the plane’s motion now, switched his focus to checking that things were turned off. He braced his left hand on the steering column and reached with his right, “Electrics, fuel, ignition…” he drilled, trying to calm himself.
Tony’s head lurched forward and hit the console with a crack as the plane pitched over. Mark managed to get both hands back on the column just in time to brace himself as the plane started to pivot on the nose and right wingtip. Ellie and Brenda, heads still on knees, were both pushed forward into the seats in front of them.
The first revolution snapped the right wing, and the plane folded over onto it, rotating onto its back. All four of them were now swinging by their lap belts; Ellie and Brenda trying to keep their arms crossed over their heads, Mark still holding the steering column in a death grip. Tony was limp, his beefy arms swaying with the cabin motion, knuckles slapping on the walls and ceiling.
The plane slid tail first for a second, then hit a couple more stumps and started to cartwheel again. It pitched up onto the tail and left wing just as it hit a break in the slope. Picking up speed, it bounced through a further three revolutions, the left wing and part of the tail breaking off in the process. The four passengers were thrown back and forth, their seatbelts offering little protection. Headsets whipped around inside the cabin, battering them as the plane rotated.
They finally hit the tree line partway through the fourth turn, slamming to a halt on their left side, back end slightly up. It had been less than a minute since the wheels first touched ground.