Memories of Nowhere

Cold breeze from the north was bringing in with it a moonless night that would soon be lit with a thousand stars. I just finished setting up the campfire. The jeep rests on its giant wheels a safe eight feet away, tiny LEDs of a light strip glittering around her roof like dormant fireflies. The patch of grassy land I’m camping on after a long day moving over rugged terrain roughly centers the eastern part of the sanctuary.

A drizzle starts and remains for a few minutes before getting pushed away by the wind that grows mildly stronger toward the night. The skyline of distant mountains and silhouettes greets me gently as I raise my head to take a sip from the water canteen. As minutes pass by to never return, I find a sense of majestic calmness under a velvet sky in a moment of contemplation. I climb in to the RTT to sleep for the night, hoping to wake up at dawn tomorrow.

I get up to the sound of tiny water droplets falling on the tent in quick succession. Cold humid air from outside pours in for a second as I open and close a tent window, anticipating to see the first light rays in the eastern sky. The sun is yet to rise. Climbing down, I add a few logs to the dying campfire. As I get ready for the day, golden rays of light begin to appear in the eastern sky. The humid morning breeze blows slowly over the valley and to the south. Having cleaned myself for the day, I carefully pack everything in the back of the jeep, and extinguish the campfire. As the drizzle grows, I get behind the wheel and start driving toward the north along the faintly defined path on sandy soil.

From the heightened cockpit, I see the beautiful landscape unwrapping before me. I’m trying absorb the sight in total silence, saving for the sound of rubber rolling over sand and the humming of the V8 under the hood. It would not be long before I reach the destination, an abandoned airfield in the middle of nowhere. The journey to any civilization from where I’m would take a 12-hour drive over this terrain. Now I’m seeing the light reflecting from the nimble bird that awaits me in the distance. The Beechcraft Baron was the only aircraft left when we sold the company fleet last year. Despite the periodic maintenance, she’d been flying without issues for a good while now. The jeep springs forward faster as I change gears and push down the pedal a bit more, as the bird zooms in through the windshield, the wind gushes harder on my face through the open window.

Closing in on the vast patch of tarmac from the aircraft’s starboard, I see a white Nissan Patrol parked at a corner. My jeep decelerates and stops just a few feet away from the snorkel-fitted beast. Engaging the parking brakes, I jump down as a memory of flying finds me in a moment of magic. Three men appear from inside of the building which appears to be an aircraft hanger of sorts. We engage in small-talk as we walk toward the gleaming bird in slow steps. I jump into the turboprop’s cockpit, and bid farewell to the men, who’ve been good friends since childhood. The bird starts moving and centers herself on the runway, within seconds, she reaches takeoff speed.

I look down and steal a glance at the dim lights below while slowly descending to the depths of my element. Shining stars appear above the Nothern horizon. Everything seems in place for a moment as I engage autopilot in my mind, and let memories flow freely recalled by the familiar view through the cockpit. For the moment I elusively feel free from worries of a busy world, aided by a healthy mixture of altitude and solitude among shapeless clouds that float freely across the moonless sky.