This is my last flight today
One chance perhaps many years now lapsed,
To be asked to journey to the north.
A question was asked, one day would pass,
To go fishing to an island up north.,
The journey, the quest, or nothing less,
To the arctic this flight would be.
As four souls did decide, one stepped aside,
One place was left just for me.
One had bowed out, he’d just found out,
A sister-in-law had distressing news.
Cancer had returned, chemo treatment spurned,
This time he’d pass he cannot lose.
With finances bleak, a small advance to seek,
Asking my father for a loan.
A challenge to fight, being on the last flight,
Within ten days I would be home.
Fly fishing one task, this ability I lacked,
The gear this I had not owned.
Neither rod nor reel, fishing line, or flies concealed,
This trip seemed farther from home.
To Le Baron we’d relied, rod, reel, line to decide,
The equipment & the task at hand.
With flies to choose trout basket to peruse,
I’d be ready with a back up plan.
Within a few days, funds were paid,
Awaiting to finalize the plans.
The week had passed, final flight at last,
The adventure in now in God hands.
Four souls took flight, Toronto to north at night,
Churchill within hours we touched down.
Morning one flight, the cold artic did ignite,
One plane a history lesson was found.
Moored to the dock, the float plane stopped,
Unloading the passengers and supplies.
With refueling completed, we all were seated,
Reviewing the safety rules as they applied.
Looking at the plane, antique idea from my brain,
The colour of yellow easy to spot.
Climbing into the plane, eerily seemed strange,
In 1965 now 30 years history has brought.
The chop on the bay, a better flight today,
Clouds around the arctic circle cleared.
A Ward Air right, history in this flight,
Meeting at the docks to stow the gear.
No co-pilot on board, an extra seat to explore,
I chose the best view, or so I thought.
Legend flying northern routes, this his final pursuit,
Meeting the pilot excitement had brought.
Observation, thoughts, sweating, & distraught,
I’ve had too much caffeine today.
His face flushed and red, jittery, nervous he said,
Hesitation, as I began to pray.
Minutes before the flight, a chat to my G.P. was right,
Conveying symptoms, the diagnosis, a concern.
With three doctors to aid, I wasn’t afraid,
Keep an eye on him I had learned.
Stowed, secured our gear, Baffin Island would be near,
The engines fired up and taking flight.
A bumpy ride was rough, a short hop we’re up,
In the cockpit instruments galore, front seat I scored.
Camera and lucky fool, recording a useful tool,
Looking ahead the horizon in sight.
A quick chat bearing secured, within minutes I wasn’t sure,
Within hours we’d arrive colder despite.
My G.P. had a chat asking questions, answering back,
Checking pressure not a moment too soon.
No physical in years, medications missed, then fears,
Looking at the gauge I think we’re doomed.
Learning from the best, my father guided the rest,
Bush pilot himself set took to the air.
Later in life, Max Ward founded & set in flight,
The name all remembered was Ward Air?
The old plane still runs, vibrations shaking everyone,
Setting the auto pilot, a moment in haste.
Glassy eyes and dazed, stuttering words or a phrase,
The pilot slumped over no time to waste.
Moments later dismay, unresponsive our flight today,
Jumping to their feet, starting CPR to fight.
Calling the tower ensued, now were screwed,
The pilots unconscious fighting for his life.
Looking for signs of life, no defibrillator in sight,
Searching for answers, this wasn’t right.
Checking, heading on course, no pilot no driving force,
Tower responded the co-pilot, none in sight.
60 minutes in flight no pilot a fright,
Farther away from shore it seemed.
Waiting for a clue, none that I knew,
Checking the manual an unlikely dream.
Radioing the tower after about an hour,
Conveying the news, a life we did lose.
Auto pilot set to north heading still on course,
No means to fly or land the plane.
The pilot had died no co-pilot, we’ve tried,
Who would fly the plane now?
Checking around the room, decisions resumed,
A discussion one choice, allowed.
Calling ahead, experienced instructor had lead.
Flight similar, Cessna training, former 707 pilot.
A decision to resume, as darkness would consume,
Paul, the neurosurgeon experiences he’d try it.
A retired pilot would convey, instruction in a way,
So, Paul with his training to choose.
With a manual in hand, and Paul’s flight plan,
Returning to the dock we could not lose.
Finally, we turned around, returning hopefully sound,
The task at hand to fly home.
Scanning the sky and manual to fly,
Now two and half hours we roam.
Acquiring a retired pilot to guide, Pauls’ ability to fly,
Checking the gauges and crash course.
Arthur relaying each step, repeating or best guess,
The challenge and know how a resource.
Looking back at the plane, excitement we’d refrain,
Fly by the seat of our pants.
The era of the plane, seaworthy I’d complain,
Well organized was an unlucky change.
Heavy cloud cover remained, then it rained,
Clouds hung heavy and low.
Relaying the instructions, avoiding final destruction,
Trying to go with the flow.
A crash plan in place, well organized state,
This wasn’t reviewed before the flight.
Safety equipment reviewed, locating items ensued,
Would we arrive alive this night?
No entertainment tonight, no food on this flight,
No music to soothe the nerves.
A shot of booze, a tranquiller might do,
Staring at the lights and dials a blur.
The crosswinds blew old plane shook too,
Vibrations felt throughout the flight.
Staring at the horizon for life, a glimmer of light,
Reading the good book this night.
A moment a thought, the excite had brought,
Then a light on the dash fuel low.
Seeming closer to home, how far to roam,
Do we run out, glide no one knows?
Remembering the flight, the review I got right,
Searching for a reserve tank where?
Scanning the guide, the schematics to rely
Hoping the gauge was there.
The tower had confirmed now calmer our concern,
Fifteen gallons would suffice.
Were still on course the compass steering force,
Edging closer a sense of fright.
With auto pilot engaged, fuel savings today,
Landing was another challenge to overcome.
With floats on the plane, soft landing remained,
Paul was unfamiliar with this one.
In the distance a glow, a sigh of relief flowed,
Making it back alive and in time.
The next step, would we have regrets,
Tom Petty free falling came to mind.
The final approach, a splashing landing encroached,
Slowing the engines flaps in place.
Descending closer to the dock, avoiding the rocks,
Flight time in a plane was not a waste.
Both engines stalled we began to fall,
Falling closer to our final deaths.
Gliding in using the flaps,
Nose up facing uncertain depths.
Hitting the water with force & no crash course,
Bouncing back up in into the air.
Gliding through the air a little further we faired,
A half mile from the shore that’s fair.
The decision remained, to find another plane.
To await for the ambulance at the dock.
Resume the flight, with a co-pilot our rights,
Report to the authorities when we stop.
Waiting for a tow, a calming feeling flowed,
Remembering what the pilot had conveyed.
Years in flight, avoid a healthy regiment despite,
Quoting this is my last flight today...
a flight in a twin engine otter over Hudson Bay
