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At an Impasse

At the current position a greater then 5 mile visibility over a terrain that is gaining elevation and below a thick dropping ceiling. The requesting agency had reported good visibility but here, between lift and land, between seasons, spring weather with mixed precipitation custom made for changing conditions. Mesmerized by the till patterned plats of the rolling Palouse, soothed by the smooth vibration, and lullibyed by humming blades the ascending reticular activating system toggles a drift from the alert to napping.

The weekend carries a weight of consistent, intermittent transport requests, standbys, “Called In” and pieces of stolen sleep. Time seems to contract melding all the minutia of places, people and patients into a surreal kaleidoscopic illusion in which 60 hours warps into weeks.

Starting from the “Comctr”, a series of transmissions with requests for reports, reports and position reports. Blinking back blurred dream streaming into a more (or less) cohesive consciousness. From dark to daylight, ascending from depths to surface oriented x 3.

At the now current location, visibility has dropped, and ahead “sucker holes” tempting dead ends that close behind trapping with minimums and forcing impromptu landings, or worse. With the diversion, the altitude and heading indicators tilt as the blades pop chop the air. Pulling back onto a north and west heading, the terrain now descending, the ceiling ascending giving a way to a better visibility. Edging and probing the western perimeter, the gray thins, begins to break and soon, crepuscular beams of “God’s rays” highlight the spring green sheen of sprouting wheat growth.

Visibility resolved, MS4 resumes original heading and drowsiness returns blurring optic visibility. On distant foothills of the St. Joe Forest patches of snow are an illusion of Dolittle ing pintos among the pines.  They move away and in a painful squint, the illusion melts.