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Collins Rhōg – The Hard Way

Collins Rhōg

Collins Rhōg

Sedona AZ (September 17, 2014)The following has been randomly taken from Collins Rhōg’s private journal, and reproduced exactly as it was written, by his own hand. The date has been omitted, at his request, but Collins view is always captivatingly honest, full of depth and color, heart, love, and perseverance in times of struggle. Collins spills his soul and captures his feelings with vivid imagery and heart felt emotion that oozes from the pages of this historic text.

The following is but a portholes view, from across the room of “The Life and Times of Collins Rhōg“:

The Hard Way

Looking down at the aircraft gauges I saw that I had lost all oil pressure. Before I could look up, the Lycoming engine started knocking loudly, like rounds peeling out of a machine gun…Clack, Clack, Clack, Clack, Clack…the noise was absolutely terrifying, it was the sound of the connecting rods in my oil starved engine binding up, it was the sound that foretold of an imminent event. I was in trouble and I knew it, with all that was in me. I was flying over the Cascade Mountains, in December, in the middle of a snowstorm with an engine that was going to give out at any moment.

What a bloody good run of bad luck!” I screamed over the incessant noise that foreshadowed the events to come…Clack, Clack, Clack, Clack, Clack, Clack…thick black smoke was spilling out the exhaust backlit by the snow covered mountains below.

I throttled back the engine bringing the RPMs down, to nurse the Lycoming as long as possible. Time was running out.

Come on old girl, one last time…come on baby!” I pleaded with the aircraft, frantically looking out the windscreen for a place to put down. Just then the plane tanked down and pitched violently. I was buffeted with a huge down draft.

Holy Mother of God!” I nosed her down to gain airspeed and control. My altimeter showed 8,575 feet and diving. I could see the eerie outline of a mountain peak looming directly ahead of my plane and gave her full throttle, pulled back hard on the stick…Clack, Clack, Clack, Clack, Clack, Clack…I saw the silhouette of the mountain peak screaming closer. I wasn’t fearful, but accepting of what might come. I fired up the landing lights which illuminated the snow flurry concealing the area in torrents of ubiquitous waves.

Come on baby!

Just then the Lycoming let out a chilling crack that resonated through the aircraft’s controls as I caught a glimpse of a port section of cowl blowing off into the darkness…Bloody Hell! I screamed, as oil showered the windscreen. The prop snapped to a halt. All was quiet, except for the whoosh of the wind. I couldn’t see anything.

“Had I cleared the mountain?”

The plane’s controls were sluggish. Just then the stall alarm screamed out, breaking the silence with its constant wail, letting me know that my airspeed was near stall. I was now falling, and it wasn’t long before the plane would go into a spin. My only hope was to nose her down, gain airspeed and pull her up again, then…in a perfect world…stall her out just above the ground, setting her down with a hard thump.

In reality, I knew that the chance of me screwing her right into the mountain was almost certain. If I did, by chance, clear the peak there was a minefield of huge boulders dauntlessly reaching up like dandelions above a lawn and, just below that, lay the the timberline thick with century old trees waiting to swallow me into their gut.

This wasn’t going to be a close call, this was it. I needed a miracle. Nothing to do but roll the dice and I needed a three the hard way.

I pushed in the stick, and the plane responded by nosing down and picking up airspeed. Five seconds and a lifetime later, the stall alarm quit, but I couldn’t pull her up yet, or she’d stall out again. I was gliding in complete darkness and had no idea which side of the Cascade Mountains I was on. My altimeter wound counter clockwise like a scene from a Bugs Bunny cartoon. It was a coin toss. If I hadn’t cleared the peak I was dead for certain and if I had cleared the peak, I was only probably dead. My nerves were razor sharp, and I relied on instinct. I could have my ass rammed through my skull at any moment but I needed more speed.

Then, somehow, I knew I would make this. I knew, like I knew, like I knew, I would do this and if you’ve never felt that way about anything, I can’t explain it.

I dove her deeper into the unknown.

Come on baby!” as I held the dive, in the silence of the high mountain air…then it was time. As quick as lightning and as firm as setting a hook on a fishing rod, I pulled back on the stick and I felt my weight surge, as the G’s increased. I wasn’t going to die, not here, not now and I felt aggressively victorious, drunk on adrenalin! I had made my three, the hardest number at the craps table, and relished the magic. For a brief moment my stress melted as I watched the altimeter climb a hundred feet, the needle slowing as it rotated clockwise, then the stall alarm broke the silence with familiar resonance. I rolled the dice again and once more pushed the stick in, and once more the PA-18 responded by nosing down, the altimeter reversed direction and I felt my airspeed start to increase.

A moment later the plane shook with the synchronized noise of aluminum being torn from the aircraft as my landing gear was ripped from the fuselage. The plane flipped over like a thoroughbred taking a dive at a furious gallop. The Super Cubs harness cut deep into my shoulders as she end-owed, tail first, down the mountain side. I felt the hit as the aircraft screamed and the rudder smashed to bits folding away, beneath the plane. The Piper continued sliding on her back then, she caught an edge with her port wing causing the aircraft to spin counter-clockwise as it dropped down the mountain.

I could hear bits of the plane shedding from her structure like thousands of aluminum cans being crushed in rapid succession. Each impact lurched the plane this way and that, as it continued to rotate. I was helpless to do anything, but knew that the impacts were absorbing some of our energy, like a crude braking system, slowing the planes descent. One large hit violently tore the port wing from its root section and I could smell av fuel bleeding from her wounds. The plane spun round and the starboard wingtip wedged beneath a rock, the energy pole-vaulting what was left of the PA-18 up into the air, right side up and over a small ledge.

“Can you hear me?”

My eyes were closed, and I had no idea where I was.

“Can you hear me?”

The distorted voice asked, again. The air was cold. Where was I?

My body was heavy. I’d forgotten everything at that moment. I was nowhere.

“Hey!” the voice was louder, clearer. “Are you injured?”

My breathing was heavy and slow, my face cold. It felt very cold out, I was cold. I noticed that my back and neck hurt, hurt badly. I felt my right Achilles screaming with pain, my left knee hurt, my wrists hurt.

“Are you injured?”

There was the voice again. I couldn’t fathom where I was.

“Ohhh,” I mutely moaned, wondering if I was dreaming.

“Hey, are you alright?”

I opened my eyes.

As my eyelids parted their seams, a scintillating white light was released and gouged my pupils with its brightness. I couldn’t focus, and the vividness of it all caused me to close my eyes again.

The darkness felt nice.

“Can you hear me?”

The voice was closer, clearer, yet softer spoken. I lifted my head, it was heavy, different. My chest felt encumbered, my arms…were they hanging?

“Are my arms hanging?” I thought to myself. I couldn’t decipher my situation,  my mind was adrift in a tenacious vastness.

I slowly opened my eyes, again. The brightness swept in once more overtaking everything…my eyes started to water but I squinted, and held them open. Now my injuries began waking as well.

“I hurt!”

I said that, out loud. My pupils contracted and I was able to focus. I could see a dashboard…and snow…and I realized that I had been in a car accident. I was hanging upside down, held in by the racing harness.

“Oh my God, Reegan!” I thought to myself.

“Reegan!” I screamed.

“Reegan!” My eyes were tearing up, I had to get out of here. I hurt so badly, my skull was throbbing, my right ear was void of noise except for a ringing.

“Reegan!” I screamed again, then I felt a hand on me, holding me still.

“Calm down, calm down, we’ll find her,” the voice said.

I turned to see a shape, my eyes focused and there was a fellow, about my age, waist deep in snow looking at me. He was wearing a green Parka with fur around the hood, his breath releasing steam that rose like a specter and disappeared in the beam of his brilliant flashlight.

“My car doesn’t have a racing harness,” I thought to myself.

“Where am I?” I asked the stranger.

“You were in a plane crash. Was Reegan with you?” he asked while looking at the empty seat behind me. I was completely nonplussed, nothing made any sense to me.

“Huh?” I asked.

“You – were – in – a – plane – crash…Your – plane – crashed…I’m – here – to – help – you…You – are – still – in – your – plane,” the stranger spoke clearly, slowly, and with reassurance.

“Are – you – alone?” he asked.

“Get me out of here! Get me out of here, would ya?” I was anxious and slightly aggressive.

“Are – you – alone?” the stranger asked again, his words sinking in this time.

I remembered flying the previous night. I remembered the engine failure. I remembered the accident.

I remembered saying goodbye to Reegan in Mexico.

“Yes, I’m alone.” The pain grabbed hold as I hung there via dolorosa within the wreckage.

“Come on, mate, get me out of here!” I reached to undo the harness and pain shot down my neck, through my shoulder, into my elbow and down into my wrist. I cried out in pain and expletives, withering up in my attempt to release myself.

“How badly are you hurt?” my rescuer asked with normal articulation this time.

“I’m buggered up pretty good. Get me out of here!”

“I need to secure your back, try and stay calm.”

I hurt so badly…felt faint.

“Alright then,” I replied as my vision tunneled down. It was quiet out, my eyes rolled up and I felt myself go limp…

Collins Rhōg

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5 Comments

  1. Hiram Campbell says:

    Thanks

  2. Dave says:

    Great! Liked this one for a change!

  3. Michelle B says:

    Really enjoyed this!

  4. Is this a serialized short story?

  5. ESM says:

    In a word: Captivating!

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