Night Float III
The flight to Chevak was dark. Dark like the inside of a cow. The black night was punctuated only by dark clouds. I was in a fish bowl looking into the living room at night. Nothing could be seen out those black windows. It could get none more black. Okay, point made.
When we arrived in Chevak, we buzzed the village, as our VHF radio wasn’t working. Someone flipped the switch and we saw the faint outline of the new runway, with its shiny new lights. We were to be the first to attempt a nighttime landing. How lucky could we get. Three tries it took, as we lost the runway on approach each time. The final loop we screamed in, hitting hard on the clay runway.
As our ATV slowly rolled through town, with mud silently coating our pants, our coats, our faces, and our gear, small batches of kids, young kids, drifted through the 2 a.m. fog. I had no idea a village this small could have so many young children, and what were they all doing up this late?
We walked into the clinic and a young man was snoring hard on the stretcher in a room created by a linen screen. Groggy, but arousable, we were told that he took an unknown amount of vicodin. A common story, boy comes of age, boy leaves village for college, girlfriend will be left behind in village, boy gets sad and takes prescription medications. He had several friends there with him. He is a good guy, they say. He doesn’t drink, he doesn’t do drugs, he doesn’t even smoke weed. A role model to everyone. He is going to leave and do big things.
As he wakes up, indeed, he is a nice guy. Literate, pleasant, sad that he has disappointed everyone. We put him in our stretcher, the trailer with a bent axel towed behind our 4 wheeler, and slowly head back toward the run way. The small packs of children again materialize out of the fog. They chase us as far as they can. Reaching out to shake his hand, to wish him luck, to tell him they love him. As we get closer to the runway, the children dissipate back into the fog. And the night is quiet, save for the sputtering of our ATV and the mud pattering off my jacket.
We arrive back in Bethel. It is 4 a.m. Surely dawn and rest are near.
When we arrived in Chevak, we buzzed the village, as our VHF radio wasn’t working. Someone flipped the switch and we saw the faint outline of the new runway, with its shiny new lights. We were to be the first to attempt a nighttime landing. How lucky could we get. Three tries it took, as we lost the runway on approach each time. The final loop we screamed in, hitting hard on the clay runway.
As our ATV slowly rolled through town, with mud silently coating our pants, our coats, our faces, and our gear, small batches of kids, young kids, drifted through the 2 a.m. fog. I had no idea a village this small could have so many young children, and what were they all doing up this late?
We walked into the clinic and a young man was snoring hard on the stretcher in a room created by a linen screen. Groggy, but arousable, we were told that he took an unknown amount of vicodin. A common story, boy comes of age, boy leaves village for college, girlfriend will be left behind in village, boy gets sad and takes prescription medications. He had several friends there with him. He is a good guy, they say. He doesn’t drink, he doesn’t do drugs, he doesn’t even smoke weed. A role model to everyone. He is going to leave and do big things.
As he wakes up, indeed, he is a nice guy. Literate, pleasant, sad that he has disappointed everyone. We put him in our stretcher, the trailer with a bent axel towed behind our 4 wheeler, and slowly head back toward the run way. The small packs of children again materialize out of the fog. They chase us as far as they can. Reaching out to shake his hand, to wish him luck, to tell him they love him. As we get closer to the runway, the children dissipate back into the fog. And the night is quiet, save for the sputtering of our ATV and the mud pattering off my jacket.
We arrive back in Bethel. It is 4 a.m. Surely dawn and rest are near.
posted by rob at 1:00 AM
2 Comments:
Is he ok?
More, more!! You are a fantastic writer...I appreciate your expressiveness in words and your choice of pictures.
I, too, hope the young man in your post is okay
Laura
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