Chapter 1 - Getting There

Chapter 1

Getting There

            It’s not easy to get to Midway.  Then or now.   It really is in the middle of nowhere.  Just try to find it on a map.  There’s a whole lotta ocean around it.  It may be argued that it is not the most isolated island on the planet, but it is 1,311 miles from Honolulu.  To put that into perspective, if you took the I10 freeway out of Los Angeles and drove east for 1,311 miles, you be on the road 20 hours, 40 minutes, and wind up about 80 miles west of San Antonio.  It takes anywhere from four to five and half hours on a plane to fly between Midway and Honolulu, and the only thing under you is the North Pacific.

Midway is not open to the public.  Then or now.  It’s a national wildlife refuge operated by US Fish & Wildlife Service.  You must have permission from FWS to enter Midway, and a good reason.  Unless you happen to be one of the nearly 3.5 million birds, many of which are threatened or endangered, that calls Midway home, and therefore, do not need a passport.  And yes, humans need a passport to go to Midway.

The refuge also supports endangered Hawaiian monk seals, spinner dolphins and threatened green seal turtles.  The rich and varied wildlife make Midway breathtakingly beautiful, even if it does usually smell like the bottom of a slightly neglected birdcage. 

Before dawn, on June 1, 2002, I stood on the ramp at Coast Guard Air Station Barbers Point, looking with excitement at the big, beautiful C-130 that would take me to my distant new home.  I’m a prop-head.   I like airplanes.  That’s how I ended up running airports, because you tend to see a lot of airplanes at airports.  And military aircraft are, in my opinion, the eye-candy of airplanes.

I, and about a dozen other folks comprised of my staff, refuge staff and communications techs, was going via the Coasties because the airport on Midway was closed at that time.  It is illegal to land on a closed airport, unless you happen to be on fire or suffering some other in-flight calamity.  Or, if you’re a military aircraft with a good reason and get prior permission.  In this case, the good reason was so that I could re-open the field the minute I stepped off the plane.  

         But before I stepped off that plane, before I even boarded that plane, I’d feel the slight embarrassment of watching the Coast Guard crew load my seven pieces of busting at the seams luggage onto a cargo pallet.  Busting with at least a dozen pairs of shoes, two years worth of make-up, hair product, and half the Bath & Body Works shop.  Granted I also packed about two dozen books, a boom box and a dozen of my favorite CDs.  But who brings a dozen pairs of shoes (some of them strappy wedge heals) to an island with more birds than a Hitchcock movie?  I did.

In my defense, I thought I might be on Midway for up to two years and had no idea how easily I might be able to get the things I needed.  Like tampons.  Not something I was willing bargain with.  But the shoes eventually proved worthless, I stopped wearing make-up or styling my hair, altogether.  And I ended up having so much fun that I hardly cracked a book the whole time I was there.  I didn’t know this that chilly June morning, and it’s a good thing the C-130 is a heavy lifter.      

Speaking of which, the Lockheed C-130 Hercules, or Herk, beyond being a heavy cargo plane has versatility and plasticity to allow it to excel as troop transport, search and rescue, gun ship, low altitude parachute extraction platform, fuel tanker and fire fighter.  It’s strong as an ox, can land and take off on short runways, or no runway, and in combat.  And it can carry an awful lot.  We had about 7,000 pounds of food, mail, my shoes and Clinique.

I damn near floated aboard.  I'd never flown in a military aircraft before and felt like I was going to Disneyland.  But there aren't any rides at Disney like this.  Bumpy and loud.  Freezing-cold conditioned air streaming out of gaping, gridless vents.  Very few windows, except in the cockpit, and those windows that are accessible to passengers are not more than portholes. First class it ain’t.  Did I mind?  Not even the tiniest little bit.  I was on a Herk. 

The bathroom on our plane was not a bathroom.  Hell, it wasn't even a room.  The “head” was just your standard toilet set on top of this little platform with the equivalent of a shower curtain you pull around yourself for privacy.   I, being the only female on board, was also the only one with enough moxie, a small enough bladder and scrawny enough to climb around the cargo, to actually brave the turbulence and a swinging curtain for a much needed pee.  The loadmaster was gallantly courteous when he saw me heading for the head.  He left me alone in the aft of the aircraft and then guarded the crawl space between the hull and cargo so I could privately perform my balancing act, two feet firmly planted, one hand clutching the toilet seat and the other the curtain. 

After about four and half hours we were approaching Midway.  Mr. Gallant, aka the loadmaster, gathered us all together to give us our pre-landing briefing.  No tray tables and seat backs in their upright position on Coast Guard Air.  No send your empty drink cups to the aisle to be collected by the flight attendant.  No, here on Coast Guard Air, the pre-landing briefing goes like this. 

“Ok, everyone listen up.  We’re getting close to Midway.  Now, when we make approaches to Midway, we have to kinda bob and weave around the Gooney birds so we don’t hit them.  The plane will roll side to side as we dodge the birds.  It’s all perfectly normal…don’t be alarmed.  BUT, if we take a bird and have to ditch, make sure you grab a water survival kit before you bail.”

I’m sorry…it’s a bit loud, what with that gigantic turboprop engine turning 20 feet from the hull I’m sitting near…did you just say ditch, survival and bail?  Great, that’s what I thought you said.

Reviews

[Samuel Dickens]

A great first chapter. You know I enjoyed the earlier version and can easily insert myself into the scenes you describe. (My luggage was just a sea bag and guitar, however)

[F. Mary Jesson]

Thank you. I appreciate that. I'm trying to find my voice and make my stories interesting, but I don't quite think I am there yet.