The Cocoa Writing Center at the EFSC-UCF Joint Use Library

“Extreme Travel” Essay Contest Winner

The Flight
By Andrew Knight

There is nothing quite like flight: the freedom, the solitude, the beauty. And with
the right airplane, you can become one with the sky. In the open cockpit of a wood-and-
fabric airplane, flying into the teeth of the wind leaves you feeling naked and exposed to
the beauty and the terror of Mother Nature. Thousands of feet above the deep blue
ocean and lush, verdant islands, you are not on a commuter flight: smooth and
comfortable in a metal machine protected from the elements, with a tiny window that
barely gives a glimpse of the awe and majesty that surround you. Instead, you are riding
a living, wild beast through the sky, harnessing fire and steel, riding the currents that
encircle the globe.
Exposed on the back of a beast that flexes and roars, spits fire and smoke, you
can see all of the Earth below you and are engulfed by the heavens above you. The
cold, crisp air bites and nips at your exposed flesh while the brilliant sun illuminates all
that is before you. With little more than a leather jacket and silk scarf between you and
the sky’s cold embrace, you spur your beast on, gaining speed, searching for an
updraft. There is a shudder and a jolt as your fiery beast enters the updraft, bucking
under you, trying to lose you. You push the throttle forward. The engine roars with
power. You pull the control stick back and catch the wind rush up and up. You are
pushed back into your seat, leather straps holding you in. You can see the ground
behind you, its features shrinking as you charge through the crystal blue sky toward the
ethereal white clouds above.
Pushing harder, spurring your beast onward, the roar of the engine is deafening
as you pierce the clouds. The crystal blue of the sky is now gone. The roar of the engine
begins to recede. The mist surrounds you, enveloping both you and machine in a white,
crystal fog, cold and wet. The beast sweats. You no longer know up from down. You
cannot see the wings that support you, but you trust in them to carry you through. The
deeper into the cloudbank you go, the denser and darker it becomes. Your only comfort
is in the tongues of flame and spark erupting from the beast. Finally the cloud breaks,
freeing you from its grasp!
Fiery tendrils are flung from the wings as glistening droplets flash in the light. The
sky is now dark blue. Gone is the Earth and oceans, replaced by rolling white fields as
far as you can see. You are now truly alone, desolate in the solitude, just you and your
steed. But there is beauty and comfort in this. As you continue to climb, the sky darkens
more, the air is thin, and the roar of the engine is barely audible. The sky goes to black
and then the heavens open in their full brilliance such that you can see nowhere else.
You are surrounded by the stars: shimmering, pulsing, oscillating, intense beacons of
light. The Milky Way stretches out, spiraling arms creating a celestial river. In the
distance, you can see your ancestors navigating it as they journey into eternity. The air
is gone now; no oxygen is left, and all that remains is silence. The beast is no longer
wild, but surrenders as the fires go out and it slowly slips back toward the Earth, giving
you one last look at your kinsmen as they cross the great divide. They seem to be
calling to you to join them, but your eyes close and consciousness leaves you as you
fall.
Wind rushes past you, buffeting you, violently shaking you, screaming WAKE
UP! With a jolt your eyes open and—nothing. Where are you? How long has it been?
You don’t know but you are still hanging on to memories of the celestial river above the
clouds. You fight the mental fog. In front of you is a dim phosphorescent glow, and you
slowly focus on it. You remember you are a pilot and this is your airplane and that is the
instrument panel shimmering in front of you. You take control once again, righting the
beast, coaxing life back into it. With a hesitant sputter and miniscule spark, the engine
begins to turn, not yet alive. More coaxing—still nothing. Then you remember the fuel
tank selection valve and turn the switch. Thankfully the engine roars to life. In the
darkness you are assured by the warm red glow of the exhaust pipes. There is life once
again!
The sky opens up before as you leave the cloud bank behind. On the distant
horizon the sun is setting. Vivid oranges and reds dance on the ocean as the day slips
away. You wonder how long you were out and how far the winds carried you. Looking
back for landmarks, you see none. You are above the endless ocean, and in this twilight
there is nothing to see. You fly onward. The moon rises and the stars awaken. They are
not as close or as thick as they were above the clouds, but still brilliant and dazzling.
Now you have hope. You have stars in the sky, and the moon to mark your flight. You
are returning home to the island airport and to your hammock by the ocean under stars
that now guide you to safety.
The ocean teems with life below you. It is not dark as one would expect, but filled
with bioluminescence. You can see the glowing, swirling wake of a great whale as it
feeds near the surface; the flashing, darting, zigging and zagging school of Humboldt
squid as they hunt and signal to each other, lighting their bodies in ever-changing
patterns. The schools of jellies being carried by the currents mark a slow steady
highway across the ocean’s vastness. You want a closer look. You want to feel the salt
spray on your face. You gently push the control stick forward, nudging your beast closer
and closer to the ocean’s surface.
The beast skims the tops of the waves as you push faster and faster, leaving a
glowing trail in your wake. The salt spray refreshes and exhilarates you, and you feel
alive again as you leave the miles behind you. The plane is glowing now from the
microscopic luminescent organisms splashed onto its wings. You fly on into the freedom
of the darkness.
Island fishermen swear they saw a phantasm on the ocean that night, glowing
arms outstretched, breathing fire and roaring as it came at them, only to disappear into
the stars. You smile and keep the truth to yourself.