I was spell-bound!
"For Krissakes Ole!
I didn't know you were also a poet!"
I spoke back into the mike of my headset.
"No" came back the reply,
"But that is my favorite poem!"
It was Ole my instructor, sitting in the back seat of the trike.
His boots and the bottom of his flight suit leggings were just
visible flapping in the wind as they rested on the bars below and to
the sides of my forward seat.
"The poem is 'High Flight' and was written in WWI by RCAF
Flight-Lieutenant John Gillespie Magee"
"He was not even 20 when he was shot down!" Ole continued
"They never found his body. But when they cleared out his locker
they found this poem pencilled on a scrap of paper."
The majesty of the recital and the story, as I watched my shadow
cross the face of a cloud shrined in the vortex of this perfect
rainbow, made my throat contract with the emotion of the moment.
15 minutes earlier Ole had said " Ok how about us going up to
three thousand?"
"VFR regulations say we have to keep clear of clouds. Lets see
if we can find a hole big enough to go up above"
Ole's voice was coming through my earphones as I sat in the front
seat of the Cosmos trike.
I pushed my foot down on the throttle and the pitch of the engine
responded.
I let the control bar settle at trim and the trike began to surge
upwards at 500 feet a minute.
I had only a few hours in the trike at the time and had not yet
solo'ed!
But what an incredible introduction to this type of flying!
I could pitch across the sky by changing the placing of my weight
and thereby changing the shape of the wing!
This was as close to being a bird as I would ever get.
I had taken out my private pilots license a decade earlier and
even flown a few hours in three axis controlled ultra lights.
But nothing compared to the sensation of the trike! - I was
addicted!
Thus it was that I found myself that morning at 3500 feet above
the Stillaguamish valley with the moisture off the Pacific piling up
into clouds against the Cascade Mountains to the east.
But it must have been the ghost of Flight-Lieutenant Magee that
allowed the break in the clouds large enough for us to slip the bonds
of earth for a few brief moments!
How his ghost must have rejoiced in that weightless recital!
In those moments it seemed I too could lean over and brush my
fingers in that pot of light...
and almost etch my name on the face of God!