mrocksma

Helicopter Pirate

The other day I realized something quite amazing. I am flying…off a boat…in the middle of the South Pacific. We had just left a port in Rabaul, Papa New Guinea. A place that is plagued with earthquakes as a regular occurrence due to a geographic location settled on the fault line. The previous village was destroyed a few years ago from a volcanic eruption. You can still see smoldering at the top of the volcano in the near distance from Rabaul’s port.
These sights, scenes, and smells are unique -well some of the smells can be avoided.- What a truly amazing experience I wondered last evening. Earlier that very day I had witnessed something amazing. From 300 ft above the sea in my 500D helicopter our catch of tuna was being torn and scattered from a Humpback whale pack. A magnificent display as the whales would dive and charge upward, mouth open like a snake or that crazy ex-girlfriend. A 50 foot sea monster capturing tons of tuna whilst breaking the surface of the water and jumping damn near completely out of the glistening surface of the calm mirrored sea. Followed by a belly flop creating crazing waves 20 feet in the air.

A pirate, I am a pirate… A helicopter pirate and this seems to be a perfect fit for now. Heading from port to port after dwelling the seas for that tuna gold. A good friend of mine reminded me of something the other day while on the interwebs at port. “Dude, enjoy the moment. Do not stress or try to plan after that, a year is a long long ways away.”

He was right to an extent, in all of the quarries of life, my path has been more or less like a ping pong ball in a hurricane. The seldom moments when the ping pong ball hits a nice tree or rock. I need to revel in the beauty in the object that was able to keep me still, even if just for a moment. Appreciate the experience for the time, the beauty, and the uniqueness. I am finally flying for a living. Living a dream of my childhood. A ten year quest to validate my worth to the US aviation market. A petty quest within the USA through ratings and questions of others that dream of the upper esculent image of epaulets and the status of ‘PILOT.’ How many hours do you have? What is your goal? How much money will you make? Where will you live?
An elitist image that has long since been gone for me. Being a pilot, a true pilot, is about love. A love that is not explainable nor should it ever be. It is a feeling, a feeling that should bring you peace in your day to day life. For now, I am content. The Korean fishmaster slapped my ass the other day after a catch of 200+ tons of that Tuna GOLD. Apparently, my boss was happy with my flying. For now, my job, has calmed me. I am a Tuna Pilot, a pirate of the sea sky…

Rocks