HARELINES

LONDON TO SYDNEY AND EVER ONWARDS AND UPWARDS

(or round-and-round, there and back, etc.)

by David Hare

Monday 14th May 2001: Escape from Seattle

I don't want to be unkind to Seattle, which has been as friendly as possible, but it really was long after time to move on when at last I got away, solo this time.

So tonight it's Fargo, Minnesota, and tomorrow, God willing, Toronto, where my friend David Kierle has been patiently waiting for nearly a week to join me for the final legs. I nearly said "last legs". Hope it wasn't a Freudian slip.

But back to Seattle. Mandy duly departed on Friday morning, but it was soon apparent that I wasn't going to get away that day, so I gave up the idea at lunchtime and had a beer, went on a short harbour cruise (Senior Citizens' Rate), went to see the aeroplane, and had an early dinner and bed, with assurances that TAPE would be ready first thing in the morning. As indeed it was.

The earlier part of the week, despite Mandy's understandable disappointment at missing her tour across the States, was not without it's compensations. Dame Edna was her usual inimitable self, and on Tuesday we went to the Titanic Artefacts exhibition. I'd expected this possibly to be a little distasteful, but it was quite interesting in fact. The whole thing had been depersonalised, and was an interesting factual record of the times, as well as of the thinking behind the design and construction of the vessel. Customers are given a ticket bearing he name of a passenger or crew member, and at the exit you can find out whether you lived or died. I was a crew member, and survived. Mandy was a third class passenger, and didn't. Not many third class passengers did. First Class passengers fared best; over 50% survival rate - but of course they were nearer the open decks, whereas it seems much of the lower deck area was flooded before one could hope to have escaped.

Wednesday was a highlight. We hired a car again (and my gratitude to Mandy again for driving) and drove up to Anacortes, maybe seventy miles North, and took a whale watching tour for the day. There are many different kinds of whale to be seen in these waters, but we saw only one type - the so-called Killer Whale. Magnificent creatures. I had seen whales before, but nothing so impressive as these animals passing close to the boat, large numbers of them making their way North up between the islands hereabouts. Actually, they don't all migrate, a number make their homes here pretty permanently, I believe. Anyway, the ones we saw were travelling Northwards at the time, but whether for the season or not I don't know. The young people on the boat were part of the general Whale Preservation movement, and knew the names (yes, they all have names) and ages of all of them. The Matriarch, known with stunning originality as "Grannie", is at least ninety years old. As well as the whales, we had good close encounters with Sealions, and Bald Eagles also are prevalent here. Unfortunately none came near enough to get a decent picture.

Thursday was the turn of Mount St. Helens. A long drive South, but worth it. When it blew in 1980, it took 1300' off the top of the mountain, and left the main crater on the North side. The eruption doesn't seem to have lasted very long, as volcanic eruptions go, but the damage was enormous. 57 people lost their lives, mainly it seems because they either didn't believe the warnings (there were plenty, in fact), or because when the eruption seemed to be running late they went back to their homes. An understandable error, I feel. Our Guide Book said that Harry Truman had owned a guest house on a local lake for many years, and simply refused to leave. But when we came to the Memorial to the victims, the name was given as Harry R. Truman, a local figure. Maybe we should take it up with the Publishers.

So we left Seattle quite the little naturalists. David Attenborough, eat your heart out. I have enough footage to keep the Beeb in documentaries for months. Pity it's not better quality - I'm sure a bit of time on twelve bores would improve ones accuracy with a camera. I tried shouting "pull!", but the whales didn't seem to hear me, and the bald eagles refused to come when I did my St. Francis impression, but those were the only disappointments.

So now back to the real purpose of the exercise, we hope, and we may yet get to England by mid-May, which was always the target date. I feel just a touch of get-home-itis, but hope I can resist it.

Of course, I did the Leaving Seattle bit all wrong. Not having a co-pilot, or pilot's assistant, or baggage handler, or load master, (I usually contrive to get out of those jobs) meant, inevitably, that the bag with the camera in it was behind the ferry tanks, as also were my biscuits, cheese, apples, and other goodies. How I remembered to put the flask and tea bags in the front I'll never know. So the marvellous views of the Cascades as we came out of Seattle are lost for ever. Pity. Maybe just as well; on two occasions not long after I had to disengage the autopilot because of turbulence. I shot up some 300 feet above my cleared altitude - maybe not so bad - but worse, I descended nearly three hundred feet below it despite maintaining some approximation of best rate of climb speed. I was actually some 2000 feet above the chart's maximum elevation figures, but the mountains still looked pretty close. Maybe they don't use the same altimeter. (American for QNH.)

But having set out for Miles City, when I landed it was still a beautiful day, and I thought I was good for another few miles. Furthermore, to reach Toronto from Miles City would mean using the ferry tanks, and with a density altitude of 5,000' at Miles City I felt we might be a touch on the obese side, even if we were still below the book figures for MTOW. So on I pressed to Fargo.

This stretch was pretty interesting for me. Several ATC folk were unfamiliar with the "G" registration, and having confessed the point of origin I was asked how I came to be in North Dakota, or wherever. So I mentioned the Web site. All very flattering.

Fargo, Minnesota, has nothing to do with Wells Fargo, my taxi driver told me. Surely it must have! Pity there isn't time to find out. Because tomorrow, I hope to make it in reasonable time to Toronto, to enable us to depart reasonably early on Monday for Newfoundland and the Azores. I suppose Margaret & I congratulated ourselves on surviving the Pacific, but the Atlantic's still in with a chance!

But I can tell you I got to Toronto in reasonable order about 4 pm local time landing, and after various hallooings etc. got to the hotel, the Royal York, - remember the name, - about 6.30. Their computer had broken down. About an hour later it was still broken down. Not having anything so sophisticated as a reserve plan, this meant they couldn't check me in. So David and I went patiently off to dinner. Coming back at 10.30, they still couldn't check me in! So I went off to the Crowne Plaza down the road. Another name to remember, and avoid. After some 45 minutes, they can't connect my phone, and the "Guest Services" man who comes on the line each time I try to call out in accordance with the instructions on he 'phone, insists there is no such room as (my room number, confirmed by the telephone dial and the legend on the door), so at present I have been waiting some 20 minutes for the operator to call me back and explain. Long enough, in fact, for my hesitant fingers to type all this out!

Never mind. David & I have done some serious flight planning while we wait, (he's comfortably booked into the Royal York), and we hope to off betimes tomorrow morning. Let's hope the flying is marginally more efficient than Toronto hotels!

Whales

Sealions

Mount St Helens