Pilot Orest

We have a new baby. No, not a puppy, and not a real baby. It’s an airplane. Here’s a photo of it, snuggled under a baby blanket:

Last Tuesday, we flew to Mont Tremblant. We go there early each ski season for my husband to ski and for me to get some quality writing time.

We had taken trips with the plane before, but this was the first time we took the plane to fly somewhere specific instead of driving there. We had a number of small mishaps. The first time we took off, one of the monitors wasn’t working so we taxied back and they fixed it. Next time, we turned back because my door wasn’t completely shut. Third time we got up there, it seemed like the radio wasn’t working. I was beginning to think that a long drive to Mont Tremblant might be preferable, but it turned out the radio was indeed working, it’s just that the usual Toronto radio line was malfunctioning. We found the alternate and were finally off.

Here’s my husband, Pilot Orest:

We had to fly 9000 feet (we usually fly about 4000 ft) because of the weather. We shot through the rain and clouds and flew above, where the sun was shining and the clouds were below us.

Here's the sunset from above the clouds:

 When we finally got to the Mt Tremblant airport, we got a rental car and the guy gave us a hand-drawn map -- in French handwriting and a poor photocopy at that -- of how to get to the resort. We got lost. I had my GPS in my blackberry, but it wouldn't accept the various city names we tried to input. Argh. We finally got in around 8:30pm.

Author: Marsha

I write historical fiction, mostly from the perspective of young people who are thrust in the midst of war. View all posts by Marsha