"The Good Old Times"

I strolled down the well travelled path towards the camp ground lake.  I passed many dark red varnished cabins that had seen better days.  I remember when I used to stroll down this path towards the lake with the waves lapping on the sandy reed filled shore and the gentle creaking of the metal docks. 

As I made my way I saw flashes of aluminium and yellow amongst the green oak leaves near the shore.  As I walked further the yellow glow took shape, it was an old seaplane, a de Havilland Beaver.  I stepped around the bend and onto the metal dock.  She was tied up further down, the metal creaking and the sound of the lake brought back memories when I used to walk down here and be mesmerized by the planes flying in and out.  I walked up closer and her beauty came into view, it was if stepping back in time.  The algae had collected around her floats and given her a greenish scum at the water line, stepping further the hot sun disappeared as she took me beneath her wing.  I was captivated by this 60 year old plane, as old as she was her wind shield sloping down to the radial engine were pointed up a bit showing her aged pride.  I tippy toed and peered into the cockpit, she still held her old gauges and a GPS map system on her dash board, paper maps were slid into the door pocket and the metal floor was well worn but still had plenty of life.  Stepping back I noticed in beautiful cursive along the back was the name "Dixie".  She had an elegance to her that even planes today have a hard time capturing.  It was a moment of peace, I walked to the end of the dock and dipped my feet in the cool water then relaxed my hands behind me, the Beaver and I both looked to the far hills and enjoyed the summer breeze.  It would be so cool to be an actual pilot, to be able to lift myself high up and float above on the thermals detached from the earth, something I strive to capture for a few minutes everyday.

By Flight Simmer, Nathan Bonyun © 2007