Read Under Suspicion - The Legend of D.B. Cooper Page 13

Rick pushed the yoke forward and to port descending into the valley. When the plane came around, he cut back on the power and extended the flaps, leveling off just feet above the center of the emerald green mountain lake. Like the most fragile of porcelain, he held the yoke gently, feeling every vibration. His feet massaged the rudder pedals, almost without effort, as if he were just another cog in the machine acting flawlessly. Rick adjusted flap and throttle until he felt the belly of his plane cut into the water. With the flip of a switch, a large scoop was lowered. Water rushed into the plane filling tanks in the fuselage.

  Rick pushed the throttle forward slowly to compensate for the added weight. Then, with the flip of a switch, the scoop closed and Rick eased the yoke back, lifting the plane into the air. He gained altitude slowly as he turned the plane and headed for the upper valleys of the north ridge above trail seventy-four.

  Rick knew these mountains intimately. He knew every valley and ridge, and the different cross winds and down drafts associated with them. He held a high respect for these invisible dangers that lay in wait to tear a plane with an inexperienced pilot from the sky.

  Rick loved his job. The Forest Service didn’t have much money for pilots, but that was all right with him. After a few modifications, Rick was able to fly this plane without a copilot, and flying alone was a true joy. He’d been saving his money, hoping someday to open his own charter service, but he could never seem to make himself quit. His father had spent his whole life working with the timber of these mountains and it seemed to Rick a fitting tribute that he work to protect the trees that provided that timber.