Hidden Courage (Atlantis) Read online

  “Yo no entiendo,” Jack replied, shrugging his shoulders, telling them he didn’t understand in their native language.

  “Destino, señor?” said the other man, using his hands to gesture flying.

  Jack then realized what they were asking. They wanted to know his destination. ‘Destino’ must mean destination in Spanish, he surmised.

  “Peru, señor,” Jack replied proudly.

  “Peru?” they replied back incredulously.

  The two military men broke off into heavy conversation. Jack tried to figure out what they were saying, but they were speaking too quickly to pick anything up. They stopped and said something about ‘aqua’. Jack then figured correctly that they were fascinated by the floats and were probably wondering if he had some kind of water destination there in Peru.

  “No aqua, señor,” Jack replied, then said in English, “Mountains.”

  “Montañas?” they two said to each other, not making the connection between a floatplane and mountains.

  “Yes – si, señor,” he replied to them.

  The two military men knew that they weren’t going to understand Jack’s purpose of travel and decided just to admire the small plane.

  “Muy nice,” one of the two said, mixing Spanish and English, trying to say that the plane was ‘very nice’.

  Jack understood now that they were admiring his plane and gave them an ear-to-ear grin.

  “Muchos gracias,” he replied back, thanking them for their compliment.

  After a couple of moments of awkward silence, they extended their hands. Jack shook them both and they gestured that he was free to go.

  As he turned to leave, he then remembered that he needed fuel. He turned and called to them, “Señor, gas, por favor?”

  “Si, si,” one of them said. He then smiled and pointed to a building across the parking lot.

  Jack thanked him again, then made his way over to the FBO and requested gas for his plane. Fortunately, they spoke English there and he was able to take care of the necessary needs for the next leg of the flight.

  Half an hour later, Jack had departed and was now heading south again

  Another couple of hours of flying above touristy towns, industrial cities and more stretches of barren, lonely beaches, Jack finally arrived at his destination, Veracruz. It was a tremendous city that seemed to go on forever. Jack decided right away that he wasn’t going to attempt to find the airport on his own. He immediately requested vectors to the airport.

  Due to the heavy volume of air traffic, he was vectored outside the city limits for twenty minutes before he was brought back in to land. Jack hadn’t anticipated this delay and worried that he might have to declare an emergency before he ran out of gas, something that could bring negative repercussions in the aftermath. Thankfully, he was brought in with fumes to spare. He taxied to the general aviation ramp and then to the FBO where he obtained another refueling.

  This was Jack’s stop for the evening. He found a safe ‘lounge’ to sleep in for the night and prepared for the next day’s legs of the journey.

  Having arrived well before dark, he had time to kill. Even though he was tired, he knew if he laid down now, someone would inevitably wake him with questions of his stay. His money was limited and the beach was too far away for a cab, so he elected to wander through the main airport facility, taking in the various tourist kiosks.

  The food there was too expensive for his budget, so he ate a peanut butter sandwich pulled from his small backpack as he window-shopped. Being poor didn’t really bother Jack. He was just happy to be there, enjoying new worlds and cultures.

  ‘This is really living,’ he thought to himself.

  As darkness fell, he made his way back to the lounge area, rechecked the weather for the following day, made some notations in his personal journal, then fell asleep on the couch.

  DAY 4

  Jack woke before dawn. The cheap clock on the wall read 5:30am. He looked down at his watch and noticed it read 6:30am. He readjusted the time, then sat and ate another peanut butter sandwich with some water. He hadn’t bathed in four days and even though he hadn’t done anything physical to sweat, he felt dirty.

  He found the men’s bathroom and used it to clean up a bit, taking a sponge bath with paper towels. It wasn’t five stars to be sure, but effective just the same. Stripping down to his shorts, he moved as fast as he could, trying to finish before anyone else entered.

  Jack leaned over a sink and placed his head under the running faucet. With soap in hand, he washed his hair and face, then began to rinse out the lather.

  Suddenly, Jack heard the sound of a man clearing his throat from behind him. Quickly, he stood up and turned around. There, standing in front of him, was an older, distinguished-looking gentleman, impeccably dressed and eying Jack with obvious contempt. Jack smiled feebly, but only received a condescending and indignant stare in return.

  Jack searched for something to say to explain his impropriety, but found himself speechless. Realizing there was nothing he could say, he resigned himself to a simple, “Sorry.”

  The dignified-looking man merely flashed Jack a nod of disgust, then entered a stall at the far end of the bathroom.

  ‘He thinks I’m a vagrant,’ Jack surmised.

  Jack felt humiliated and ashamed, so he hurried along even faster. Having completed his cleansing, he dried himself with paper towels, then quickly dressed. He looked down at the occupied stall at the end of the bathroom and said one more time, “Sorry,” then headed out to his plane.

  Jack entered the tarmac from the bottom of the airport terminal. The warm morning air felt invigorating on his still wet hair. As he walked to his plane a short distance away, he tried to forget his ‘bathroom experience’, but somehow it forced itself to the forefront of his mind.

  “Well, there’s a story for the grandkids,” Jack said sarcastically.

  He stowed his gear in the plane and made his preflight inspection, checking the control surfaces as well as his fuel and oil levels. Satisfied all was okay, he unfastened his tie-downs and removed the chocks for the tires.

  Before getting into the plane, Jack gave the airport terminal one last glance before leaving.

  “What the heck?” Jack said in surprise.

  Standing in the plate glass window above him was the distinguished gentleman, waiting for his commercial flight to leave. As Jack made eye contact with him, gone from his face was that awful stare and in its place was an all-knowing smile. With a simple nod of his head, he bid Jack ‘good luck’.

  “Huh… I’ll be,” Jack said to himself in amazement.

  Jack gave the gentleman a return smile, then stepped into his plane. He started the engine and moments later taxied to the runway as directed by the Ground Controller.

  Being cleared for takeoff, he glanced far over at the terminal one last time and saw the distinguished gentleman still watching as he advanced the throttle. Moments later, he was aloft, heading south over the warm inviting beaches once again, the memory of the gentleman’s smile firmly imprinted in his memory.

  As Jack flew south, he realized that by the day’s end he would be far away from the safety of American soil. He would have to be very careful not to draw attention to himself in this part of the world. He left the ocean and headed into desert plains, his next destination being Salina Cruz, along the pacific coast. He looked down and noticed there were places to land just about everywhere in case of an emergency. Occasionally he crossed vegetated rolling hills and mountains that reminded him of the Appalachians he had crossed in the southern US. As quickly as the mountains appeared, they were replaced again by plains.

  An hour later, after passing the halfway mark, the landscape took a dramatic turn. Jack started to see fewer plains and more mountainous areas. They were very rough in texture, unlike their northern cousins, covered with dense, vibrant green foliage.

  After a while, the green jagged mountains became just plain jagged mountains, brown and menacing. Any
malfunction now would spell almost certain death for him.

  Jack monitored his engine gauges carefully and did his best to stay on course. With a half hour remaining, this was the most nervous he felt since he’d started four days ago. Fifteen minutes later, the terrain turned into less harsh rolling hills. He could see the ocean now and the skyscrapers of Salina Cruz. He breathed a sigh of relief. He had made it past the rough and inhospitable land and would now be flying the safe and tranquil coastline of the Pacific Ocean.

  Jack contacted the tower at the Salina Cruz Airport and followed a jumbo jet in, using a standard left-handed approach pattern. As he worked his way closer, the blue-green ocean was plainly visible. With his vents open, he could smell the salty ocean air and feel the warm temperature outside as the air rushed past his face. He felt invigorated and excited. As he turned onto his final approach, he could now see the jagged mountains he had crossed and the dry desert terrain that made up the perimeter of the city below.

  Jack touched down and was instructed to taxi to the general aviation ramp. Once there, he went through the same exercise with customs that he had gone through earlier in the day. It was uneventful and these two military men were just as pleasant as the last two. After refueling, he grabbed a quick peanut butter sandwich and some water, then went into the FBO to check the weather for his next leg and to ensure all his paperwork was in order to enter Guatemala.

  Feeling satisfied, he took off and was now headed east. He hadn’t done this since he started flying, and it felt good to be flying a new direction. As he hugged the coastline, he could see that it was lined with sharp cliffs that went on for miles. The beaches were mostly deserted, and were white and beautiful. He flew across a large bay. On the other side, the steep cliffs had disappeared and were replaced by desert plains. The sandbar he was now following looked like the one he followed on the Gulf of Mexico, endless and mostly deserted. Occasionally, he past a few small towns, some looked very wealthy with mansions lining their beaches and in-ground pools attached.

  “I wonder what these people do for a living?” Jack asked out loud.

  Halfway through the flight, he saw two enormous factories on an inland waterway. He wasn’t sure if they were oil-related, but knew these two must be the economic lifeblood of the area for many miles. There just wasn’t anything else he could see that could produce an income, except for fishing.

  After two and half hours of flying, Jack’s GPS receivers were instructing him to turn inland. This was the short five-mile stretch of land between the shore and his destination – Mazatan, the last big city before Guatemala. Banking the plane left and following a straight road that lead to the city, he spotted the international airport with the help of Air Traffic Control. Minutes later he was down and discussing his next leg with customs agents. Having blessed his paperwork, he headed back to the plane and awaited his clearance to depart.

  “Cleared for departure,” came a voice in broken English.

  Jack pushed the throttle full forward and was rolling. He pulled back on the stick and watched the ground drop away from him. The palm trees at low altitude once again became a blur of green vegetation as his climbed.

  Fifteen minutes passed and Jack was now in Guatemala, heading east. A while later, he noticed on the map a small town named Xexuxcab. He looked down and saw a small fishing village with lots of cottages. Strangely, there weren’t any roads. This was hard for Jack to comprehend.

  “The inhabitants must use their boats to get everywhere,” Jack said to himself. “What a pain.”

  Halfway through the flight, he passed the larger city of San Jose. This town looked like it was entirely supported by the oil industry. Like Galveston, the evidence of oil was everywhere: refineries, oil rigs, as well as tankers in the harbor.

  Further on, the coastline was a busy one, with tiny villages and larger cities hugging the beaches.

  Then it dawned: ‘Guatemala must be a wealthier nation then Mexico.’

  The evidence seemed overwhelming. Moments later he crossed into El Salvador. The communities continued. They looked beautiful from the air, with large homes on the water and fancy swimming pools attached.

  A while later, as he flew down the coastline, the terrain inland turned rugged and mountainous. The shore became rocky and reminded him of the beautiful Oregon coastline he’d seen in calendars back home. He snapped a few pictures as he flew.

  Just like his previous airport, he needed to turn inland to the city of Zacatecoluca in El Salvador. Along the way, he took in the sights of the villages and towns, as well as the road that lead to the main city.

  “Wow; everything looks rundown,” he said to himself.

  As he was scanning the horizon for traffic, something caught his attention. Looking down, he could see that the side of a mountain had slid off and wiped out half the town. The devastation looked awful and widespread. He realized then that tragedies happen all over the world and go unreported, something that was obvious but he’d never given it any thought until the moment. Minutes later, he landed at El Salvador International, where he was greeted by two more military-type customs agents who wanted to have a ‘talk’ with him.

  Jack was gruffly ordered to stand clear while the agents made a search of his plane. Even though Jack filed flight plans with every flight he took, something drug traffickers never did, he was still regarded as a possible suspect and treated like one until he was proven innocent after they found nothing. Once cleared, the agents became all smiles and were very helpful. Relieved, Jack accepted their handshakes and asked where the FBO was located.

  This was Jack’s home for the night. Having taken care of the usual things – gas, weather for the next day and customs requirements for Nicaragua, Costa Rica and Panama (the next three countries he would be transitioning through) – he was ready for bed.

  Unfortunately, Jack’s bed for the evening was a broken couch. The pilot amenities in El Salvador were not up to the standards of the US. The couch, if it could be called that, had no cushions. Instead, someone had laid down old newspapers where the cushions had once been to soften the seat. The backrest was torn, dirty and smelled.

  “Holy crap, what a freakin’ pigsty,” Jack announced with dread. “This is a step down even for a skid row bum.”

  Hesitantly, he laid down for a minute to test the comfort factor.

  “You’ve gotta be freakin' kidding me. On a scale of one to ten, I’d rate this as a negative one,” Jack blurted out in disgust. “I’m outta here.”

  He decided that the passenger seat in his plane would give him a much more comfortable rest. He grabbed his things and made his way to the tarmac.

  Inside the plane, Jack moved some things around to allow for the seat to recline a bit. He then placed his sleeping bag on it for cushioning and got in and laid down. The temperatures were mild so he only needed his fleece jacket as a blanket. As he started to fall asleep, he felt a little uneasy as he watched the occasional pair of soldiers, rifles slung over their shoulders, patrolling the terminal. As he locked the doors to the plane and closed his eyes, he tried to block out the graphic images of unlawful arrests he had read about in past research. Eventually, exhaustion won out over worry and he fell into a deep sleep.

  DAY 5

  Jack felt heat on his face. With his eyes closed, the sun pieced through his eyelids, causing discomfort and dryness. As he slowly opened his eyes, he could hear the whine of jet engines as they were being started. He sat up and looked around the airport. It was morning, and the international airport was bustling with early morning traffic readying for departure.

  He woke hungry, so he grabbed himself another peanut butter sandwich and some water. Finishing breakfast, he got out of the plane and took care of business for the day's flights.

  Having checked the weather, he was now ready for the day’s events. He would be landing at four different airports, the first leg taking only about an hour to complete.

  As Jack departed the El Salvador Airport, he was g
lad to be out of there. The place felt dirty, rundown and dangerous. As he flew back to the coastline and headed east, his sense of worry disappeared and was replaced with excitement for the day’s destinations. El Tamarindo Airport was his next stop, a little over an hour away.

  As he flew east, he could see many expensive homes that lined the beaches. The land was flat with an occasional forest far in the distance that Jack took to be jungle. At times the land changed to rugged hills, then just as quickly it changed back to vegetated plains. The narrow beach communities looked tranquil and inviting as he neared the town of El Tamarindo, the last point before Honduras.

  Up ahead, Jack could see the enormous bay that protected his destination. Minutes later, he made out the image of the single runway that looked like it ran right into the ocean. He contacted the control tower, which gave him instructions to land from out over the ocean.