I go to Tokyo for lunch.
I get up at 5:30; hightail it to the airport for the first flight. It is a 2.5 hours flight, which gives me a wonderful window to read a book that brother Ian recommended. It is about two guys who sail and row a small boat through the North West Passage. Great fun, a little blemished by Royal Marine officers spending too much time talking about their relationship. Are Marines allowed to talk about relationships these days?
Anyway their relationships, I mean adventures, are very similar to my own on the Scaffie. Mine tend to be warmer. However they do a great job describing the frustration and tedium of beating against the wind in a small dinghy with no motor.
So we beat our way into Tokyo against the wind as I am reading about sailing in a rock strewn passage in terrible conditions. Suddenly the wind gets up and the fog comes in. We crash against huge waves of turbulence. We cannot see where we are going. We are kicked around by the wind and sea. The dread of the big wave that will be the end is ever present. We finally break through the fog and, oh no!, we are only 1oo metres above the reef, I mean runway. I don’t think we will make it. The tiller does not respond as we are buffeted up, down, port, starboard. The rain crashes against the widows.
There is a sickening crunch as we smash into the rocks.
Later, after lunch, I fly back but this time it is a smooth broad reach.
Flying can be a lot like sailing.