The 1000 Hour Day by Chris Bray

Author:Chris Bray [Bray, Chris]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Pier 9
Published: 2016-07-13T04:00:00+00:00

As we hurried into the hangar to pack up all our gear, Willie appeared, instantly dissipating our stress with his warm, kind-grandfatherly manner, wheeling two chairs towards us. ‘Come and have a coffee, boys … sit down.’ Having already heard from many locals that Willie was unquestionably a living legend—a pioneer aviator from back in the 1950s and now 73 years old and still flying essential air ambulance services for much of the Canadian Arctic—we were eager for a chat.

‘Zat was one of ze most difficult landings I’ve ever had to do in 49 years of flying,’ he announced. Apparently, the wind was blowing almost perpendicular to the landing site, there was ‘a very low cloud ceiling’ (meaning he was basically flying inside a cloud the whole time), and it was raining freezing drizzle that obscured his windscreen, making it impossible to tell how far off the ground he was. ‘Zat is why I had to make so many passes … little lower each time until I found the ground.’

We raised our eyebrows, impressed. ‘Ze only reason I decided to land,’ Willie smiled kindly at us, ‘was zat you just looked so sad down zere!’

I asked about the tundra tyres on the plane, commenting that we’d been told the nearest tundra-equipped plane was way up in Resolute. ‘Oh zey are not tundra tyres,’ he gestured, smiling, ‘zey are only medium tyres … It’s all we have. But zey are okay.’

Suitably humbled, we started explaining about our trip. Willie took great interest in our gear, and especially the PACs. ‘Zese are very good,’ he said, nodding appreciatively. ‘You are not crazy like I thought.’ The more he heard about our expedition, the more impressed he became. ‘You were out there alone for 58 days?!’ We nodded, a little embarrassed, as he turned and announced to the rest of the crew in the hangar. ‘Zese two are real men! Unlike you—you boys wouldn’t survive one day out where zey have been!’

Everyone we passed on our way back through town seemed to recognise us, and as we passed Colin’s house—the-ex-dog-team driver we’d met before leaving—he excitedly ushered us inside. ‘I’ve got something to show you boys,’ he said. ‘Wait here …’ He returned moments later carrying the most gorgeous, fluffy puppy we’d ever seen. ‘He’s going to lead my dog team.’

We stared at him, ‘You’re starting a new dog team?!’

‘Yep!’ He grinned. ‘I’ve wanted to for years—I thought maybe I was too old—but you boys inspired me with your crazy trip!’ Pride and excitement twinkled in his eyes, and a tremendously rewarding feeling washed over me.

After enjoying the bliss of our first shower in 58 days and devouring a wonderful roast meal at a friend’s place, we ended up celebrating our first night back in ‘civilisation’ with some cheerful travellers at the local lodge. However, after politely declining another vodka and watching those around us, intoxicated, spill their own, I started feeling increasingly alienated—repulsed even—by my surroundings, and I could see Clark too was suffering.

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