I spend another few days relaxing at Nauru... there's not much work to do on the aircraft, and the mood is festive amongst the crew. So far, despite my lack of expertise, I've done pretty well. The worst part- the leg from the Galapagos to Christmas Island- is over; the next leg went very well, and the weather has been kind and fairly predictable.
The evening before my departure for Babullah, Indonesia, my chief test pilot and DC3 guru, Briggs, joins me at the bar, followed by a very old man who has the unmistakable look and demeanor of a pilot with many, many hours in the air.
"This is Jake Cutter", he tells me. "He's visiting from Gora Bora; flew all the way here to meet you".
The old man grins and sticks out his hand. His grip is pretty punishing for someone who's 90 if he's a day. His face is as weathered and creased as the Himalayas, but there's a twinkle in his eye.
"Don't you mean 'Bora Bora'? I ask.
Cutter chuckles. "Nope; Gora Bora. Been living there since the '30s. This kid's old man (he points an elbow at Briggs) and I did a lot of flying around those parts, mostly before the war. You might've heard of a TV show based on my little escapades, but it's mostly Hollywood rubbish..."
I tell him I vaguely remember the show... he could care less about that.
We chat about my trip; I've brought my charts to the bar, and we peruse them together. He seems mildly impressed with my progress so far, which I guess is high praise from such an old hand. He's delighted to hear about Peg, my 3-legged dog... seems he had a one-eyed dog, many years ago. He is full of questions about my trip. When I describe my near-ditching east of Cassidy, he roars with laughter."Why the hell you don't just use that big PBY of yours for this crazy trip, I don't know",he teases.
"Well", I reply, "Couldn't carry the crew and spares and everything in the DC3, now could we?".
The old man laughs again, this time until he's coughing. He takes a long pull on his drink, then takes a deep breath.
"You might want to use the NDB at Gora Bora for a fix on your next leg; it's just south of your course", he suggests. He points a gnarled finger at a point near the equator.
"But... there's nothing there".
"Not on any current charts", Briggs chimes in. "It's kind of a secret; the powers-that-be keep it that way, out of deference to old Cutter, here. He's something of a legend".
Cutter snorts. "Phhtt- I'm just an old pirate, that's all. But a lot of people owe me favors..." he winks theatrically.
He jots down two NDB frequencies on my chart, and after thinking a moment, makes two small marks, one north and one south of the equator.They're both about 500 miles west of Nauru, and about 300 miles apart.
"This here's Gora Bora", he says, indicating the southern island. "No runway there, but if you have trouble, you might be able to put that beauty down in one piece on the beach. You're welcome to sleep in my place until I get there; the door's unlocked."
"Thanks... so what's this other island?" I ask.
"Well now, that there is Keneru; it's a ghost island", he says, suddenly quite serious. I glance at Briggs- he's perusing the bottom of his glass.
Next: Cutter Finally Finishes His Story!!!
