Let Us Be Brave

by Linda Thompson

  Chapter 42

  Sinclaire Air

  The bugs were thick at the King Salmon airport, almost bad enough for Michael’s head net. The droning noise was driving him to distraction, plus he had blood-splattered mosquito and fly bodies smeared all over his exposed face and hands. “I hope these passengers arrive soon. I’ve got company coming in on a ship today, and here I am doing a story in the bush,” he said to the pilot.

  The two waited, not too patiently, swatting for their lives. Where was the family that was sharing the charter to Anchorage?

  The pilot paced around the plane, inspecting as he waited. Finally a beat-up, dirty grey truck with a cracked front window drove down the road, leaving a cloud of dust behind. It came to a stop beside the plane. The college-age driver hopped out and immediately started unloading baggage from the back camper and putting it beside the tail door of the plane. A husband, wife, and two children got out of the super cab truck. The children, ages three and five, wore kuspuks with the ties tight around their faces to keep bugs from going down their backs. The mother quickly loaded the five-year-old into the seat behind the pilot’s and belted her in before she belted herself. The girl had long, blond, curly hair and blue eyes and clutched a tattered copy of Charlotte’s Web. The husband and three-year-old were soon belted in the back seats. Michael climbed up front to ride copilot. He was curious about flying.

  The pilot secured the baggage and quickly climbed into the cockpit after checking that all doors were secured. “These bugs are too much today. Glad we’re going home,” he stated as he put on his earphones and started to prepare the plane for flight. The occupants reeked of bug dope and sweat from the heat.

  “Yeah, we are too,” said the father.

  Michael watched intently as the pilot primed and started the plane.

  “Mama, we gonna be home today?” asked the five-year-old.

  “Yes, dear, in a couple of hours. Not long.”

  “Will I be able to play with Sally when we get home?’

  “We’ll see, honey.”

  “Will I be able to play with Ginny when we get home?”

  “We’ll see, honey. For now, how about if you just read or take a nap. You’ve been going strong asking questions since four this morning. It’s time for you to just be quiet.”

  “Will . . .”

  “Quiet time, dear,” her mom said insistently.

  The little girl sat with her mouth open as if ready to speak, but no sound came out. Michael looked back and saw the father’s face relax in the peace and quiet that took the place of her incessant questioning.

  “What are the chances of seeing ash today?” Michael asked the pilot.

  “Not much. The mountain has really calmed down and the upper winds are flowing more to the south. We’ll be flying over to Cook Inlet, though, and will have a bird’s eye view of Augustine.”

  “That sounds interesting.”

  The noise of the plane engine powering up put a temporary end to all conversation. The pilot talked to the tower and was soon cleared for take-off. Once they were leveled off at about 2000 feet, the adults started to chatter.

  “How was Katmai? Did you have a good time?” Michael asked the parents.

  “It was fun, but the bugs! I felt guilty that the children and my wife were attacked so viciously. I should have left them at home. I’ve never seen bugs like that before.”

  “They can be pretty intense this time of year. It’s like they know that summer is short and soon to end. They’re driven to get all the free meals they can before they freeze and die off.”

  The pilot headed straight north for Igiugig, a small village where Lake Iliamna flows into the Kvichak River. From that point, he stayed on the south side of the largest lake in Alaska and headed for Kakhonak, and lastly Pile Bay, two more native villages. Once they passed below, he moved the plane to a higher altitude and turned east up and over the Alaska Range, heading for Cook Inlet. He knew he was following an old trail that the natives had historically hiked between the old store on Cottonwood Bay off Cook Inlet and the villages. He was well out of the effects of the sporadic ash clouds by following this route. He had good visual with the ground until he reached Cook Inlet where the water was enshrouded in heavy, low, grey clouds. He had no difficulty knowing his location because all the fog was directly over the water, leaving all the mountaintops easily visible. He simply needed to stay between the Alaska Range and the Kenai Range and head north toward Anchorage. The weather for Anchorage was fog free so he knew he could easily land VFR.

  “I see a big S-O-S! I see S-O-S!” the older child exclaimed while trying to get her mother to look out the window. “What does it mean?” She tugged on the mother’s sleeve. “Mama, I see S-O-S!” she said demandingly.

  The young mother was exhausted from getting up early with her little daughters because the sun came up so early in Alaska. She was sound asleep when the tugging, loud little girl demanded, once again, her full attention. She heard the letters S-O-S in the fog of her dream, and it registered that she needed to pay attention. “What? What did you say?” The young mother sat up and sleepily looked at her.

  The daughter was sitting up straight, intently looking out the window, pointing down and back. “Mama, I see letters on the beach. S-O-S. What does it mean?”

  The mother quickly leaned over to peer through the glass, but it was too late. All she could see was fog. “Where, honey?”

  “Back there.”

  “SOS means someone needs help.” She tugged on Michael’s sleeve and told him, and he, in turn, told the pilot.

  “Should we believe her?” Michael asked the mother.

  “She’s a smart little kid. She wouldn’t ask a question like that unless she actually saw something,” said the mother.

  The pilot immediately hit the MARK function button on the GPS to lock in the latitude and longitude. Doing that would make it a little more likely he could spot whatever it was the child had seen. Still, it was like looking for a needle in a haystack. With no ground references to go by, he made several fly-bys based on instrument readings and his best guess, but even with all searching, they never saw the signal again. He radioed in the information to Search and Rescue that one of his passengers, a child, had seen an SOS in the fog, the estimated location of it, that no adults had witnessed it, and that he was proceeding to Anchorage’s Merrill Field.

  “There’s a search going on in this area for a plane of Special Olympics athletes and their coach, but no one has found them as far as I know,” said Michael Vaughn. “That’s why he listened to your daughter.”

  “You think what she said she saw might be them?”

  “I don’t know, but if it is, we did our best to try and help in the search.”

  On they flew above the dense fog, with little to see until they passed Kenai where the fog thinned and finally disappeared. They easily crossed the inlet, bumping with the winds that were common in that area, passed over the highrises of downtown Anchorage, and finally landed at Merrill Field.

  Once Michael was in his Jeep, he called Danielle. “You won’t believe what happened to me today!” he said. “Where are you? I have to quickly drop off my news report to my editor, and then I’ll pick you two right up.”

  Chapter 43

  Across

  Early in the morning, Jack and Diane readied the boat for sailing. Mark was still asleep in his aft bunk, but the noise and movement of the others woke him up. He pulled on his clothes from the day before and headed out. Skipper met him immediately, demanding a bit of affection to start his day.

  “Coffee’s ready on the counter. There are muffins and hard-boiled eggs for breakfast if you’re hungry,” called Diane from the forward cabin. She was making the bed. After she finished tidying up the room, she said, “Here’s a raincoat to put on over your jacket. There are some warm wool watch caps in the locker there along with several types of gloves. You’re welcome to any that will fit.”

  Mark grabbed the rain gear a
nd his breakfast before he headed out. He’d be plenty warm with the slicker over his sweater. He gulped his cooling coffee and egg as he watched what was happening on the cockpit.

  Jack was outside looking at the weather. “Looks good here, but I heard it’s really foggy on Cook Inlet this morning. Most of the way should be fine.”

  “Can you sail this thing if it’s foggy?”

  “Oh yeah, we have plenty of equipment for traveling in the blind. It just slows us down. There’s a little wind today, so we might end up using the engine to travel unless it picks up while we’re out there.”

  Diane came on deck all dressed for the cool weather and checked that all sailing gear was secure in its proper location.

  “You ready, Diane?”

  “Oh, yeah.”

  Jack jumped off the boat and tossed the ladder gently back on board, cast off the mooring lines, and gave it a gentle shove in the correct direction before climbing back on and securing the lines. Meanwhile Diane had started the engine, and they were off. Slowly the boat maneuvered between docks C and D and headed toward the huge tugs, research vehicles, and commercial fishing boats on the other side of the harbor. The sun had just come up over the mountains to the east as they slowly traveled through the maze of boats toward the harbor’s exit. It glistened off the blue-grey water of Kachemak Bay. The tide had turned, so as they rounded Land’s End Resort, they took advantage of the free tidal ride out to Cook Inlet.

  It was a beautiful day, and Mark was eager to see if he was right. All night he had dreamed about finding Helen. He really didn’t know for sure, but when he heard about Indian Joe’s accident, it seemed like a good possibility that she and her team had taken shelter in his cabin. He sure hoped they’d find them there.

  After ten hours of sailing with a tailwind, the wind practically died and they turned to motoring. A fog was rolling in, and the tidal currents were strong coming down Cook Inlet from the Anchorage area. Jack adjusted for that and turned on the radar for collision avoidance and the chart plotter on the GPS for navigation to Iniskin Bay. Everything seemed quiet, damp, and grey as they moved through the water and watched their image on the GPS screen. Time felt endless, and even as they headed in the right direction in a delicate breeze, it seemed they would never arrive at their destination.

  Upon approaching the bay, Jack concentrated on the GPS while Diane watched from the bow to warn him of any danger. There were a lot of plotted and unplotted underwater rocks, but if they could get around them without damaging the hull, there was that perfect, sheltered, three-fathom-deep hole on the east side of the bay they were striving to find. They would be completely protected if the wind picked up and giant waves washed into the bay from Cook Inlet to the south, plus it was close to shore and they wouldn’t need to travel far in the dinghy with any tide. They sure didn’t want the boat to go dry at low tide; too many problems could happen to the boat when the tide came back in.

  “Rock, portside,” called Diane.

  Jack turned the boat to clear it safely.

  “Now you’re heading right for another, dead ahead. It’s a big one.”

  Jack once again maneuvered the boat away from danger.

  Peering over the side of the boat, Diane said, “Looks like there are rocks everywhere. It’s gonna be close on these.”

  “We should clear them. They appear to be deep enough, according to the depth finder.”

  After twenty minutes of slowly and carefully maneuvering around all the rocks close to shore, they finally found the three-fathom destination they were in search of.

  “Looks good here, Diane. Let’s drop the anchor,” Jack called.

  After the anchor was secure and the engine off, they all sat still, listening to the water lap on the side of the boat. There was the occasional call of an eagle, cackling sea gulls, and crows talking to each other, but they heard no people.

  “If we find them in this fog, it’ll be a miracle,” said Mark. He looked at the tiny inflatable dinghy with the six-horse kicker on deck.

  “I’m anxious do some hiking around here,” said Diane. “If we sailed all this way and don’t find them, we can at least enjoy exploring and do some clamming. The tides for today are the lowest for the month, aren’t they?”

  “Sure are. Mark, our little dinghy only holds two bodies at a time, so itll take a few trips to get us all on the beach. You’ll need to wear my extra hip boots for clamming, so go ahead and put ’em on while I get the craft ready.”

  Diane and Jack immediately organized equipment needed for the day. Diane soon had two collapsible buckets, a knife, cutting board, and two clamming shovels in the pile, along with three pair of large rubber gloves. She put them all in the dinghy, which was hanging from the davits on the stern. Jack lowered it using a block and tackle, then swung the kicker around, lowered it carefully, and fastened it securely in place on the wooden stern of the dinghy.

  “I’ll take Mark to shore and then come back to get the dog. Can you get him ready in his life vest?”

  “You use a sling to get the dog in and out of the boat?” asked Mark.

  “We could, but Skipper has lived on the boat for so many years that he knows how to get into the dinghy independently. He really doesn’t like being left on board alone. He’s used his life vest ever since he was a pup. It has a ring on his back, and we could clip him to the boom and swing him out. We have done it a time or two. It didn’t scare him at all, though he did squirm a lot with the excitement. He’d rather just walk off by himself, and it’s a lot easier for us. He can swim so it’s not dangerous, just a bother to deal with a salty, wet dog. We do use the boom to get everything big on and off the boat when we’re not in port.”

  Jack climbed down the ladder on the side of the boat and into the inflatable. Mark climbed down next and sat on the floor of the dinghy with the buckets between his legs, his back against the rubber inside of the boat. Jack pulled the cord to start the kicker and they slowly started their trip to shore.

  Within half an hour the three people and the dog were slowly walking in the sand, exploring. The fog was so dense they decided to stay where they could keep an eye on the shoreline for their bearings. The tide wasn’t all the way out yet and was quickly retreating. The golden retriever was so happy to be able to run. He was doing circles around them.

  “Hey, there are some clam holes,” said Jack. He stopped, put his shovel beside the hole, and immediately started digging. Soon he had a beautiful seven-inch clam in his rubber glove. They dug up a couple more before continuing on their walk down the beach. They walked and clammed for another three hours and forty-five minutes, not seeing or hearing any sign of human life, though the eagles, sea gulls, and sandpipers were quite active. Robins were singing in the trees and running along the beach grass, eating bugs. They were heading north into the bay and moving away from the open inlet. At one point they saw two bears eating beach grass, which is high in protein, but the bears were so intent that they didn’t even notice the three retreating humans.

  As the three friends walked back toward the boat, Mark admitted sadly, “I guess I was wrong. I was so sure they were here, but we’ve gone all over this side of the bay now, haven’t we? I have to admit, I’m disappointed. I was looking forward to finding them.”

  “We could head back toward the open water of Cook Inlet. We haven’t looked there yet,” said Jack.

  When they got back to the dinghy, they filled the clam buckets with water so the clams could spit the sand out of their shells. Then they continued to head south. Free of the cumbersome buckets, they walked on for about ten minutes more and were just about to turn around and give up when Skipper suddenly stopped, sniffed the dry sand, and stared off down the beach.

  “What you hear, Skipper?” asked Diane. “Bear?”

  “Hope not,” said Mark.

  “Yeah, the last two were enough for me too,” whispered Diane.

  The three froze, listened, and wondered if they were about to have a close encounter w
ith a brown bear. They had seen fresh bear tracks and sign along the beach, but they heard nothing in the fog except the birds, waves lapping on the shore, and water flowing down a stream . . . .

  A twig broke down the shoreline in front of them. They shot each other looks of caution.

  “Did you throw in a can of bear spray, Diane?” Jack whispered.

  “Forgot it,” she whispered back.

  The three continued to stand still, listening . . . . Then they heard some babbling noise up the hillside.

  “What’s that?”

  The dog took off running.

  “Skipper, Skipper! Come, Skipper!” called Jack, fearing for the dog’s safety.

  “I think I know.” Mark immediately started walking quickly up the beach, following the dog with a smile on his face. The others followed. “Hey, look what I see!” He stopped and Diane and Jack caught up. There on the beach was the newly made SOS.

  “Well, looks like you might have found your girl,” said Diane teasingly.

  “She’s not my girl, not yet anyway.”

  Chapter 44

  “O ah a ars” (Go away bears), yelled Sam over and over.

  He was trying to scare off the bears as he and Lillian descended the dirt trail to go clamming for dinner. Sam carried the bucket and Lillian walked slowly and carefully behind him. They got down to the beach where the SOS was set, and Lillian went straight to the tree where she had stashed the clamming shovel. She’d started to pick it up when Skipper came running up to them and circled around and around, wagging his tail and barking in a friendly manner. Lillian stood paralyzed with fear. Sam was frightened at first, but quickly recognized the dog was friendly. He sat in the damp sand and let the dog rub all over him and lick his dirty face. He had no idea where the dog had come from, but it was nice to see him. Lillian calmed down, but continued to stand with her hands close to her chest in a defensive position.