Screw Pile Developments

Last Day of Term – Veldmeer High School

Lewis and Hans were reviewing their end of year results on their tablets. Predictably, Lewis had topped almost every subject — all except one. He glanced over at Hans’ marks, and in particular Hundeerde History and Literature. Lewis had scored an excellent A; Hans had scored an A+. What shocked him most wasn’t the mark itself, but that, actually yes, a little part of him did mind that Hans had beaten him. It was a small, uncomfortable discovery about a competitiveness he hadn’t known existed.
The bell rang and the annual stampede to the lake was underway. This year, Lewis managed twelve minutes.

Veldmeer Airfield

Raven swooped over the threshold of the runway for the second time that day and touched down exactly next to the flight apron, pulling up and stopping just before the hangars. He was hoping that there would be time for one more circuit with Daan before the end of the afternoon’s flying. Raven was just about to unbuckle his harness.

Daan popped the canopy and climbed out.

From the ground.

Raven sat for a moment as the reality behind Daan’s words sunk in.

Raven grinned, a feeling of rising excitement, yet focused anticipation building.

Toby lay on the ground and attached the cable, his fingers on one paw extended.

Raven moved the cable release lever to the closed position. Toby made a fist, and gave the cable a tug with his other paw.

Toby, running the wing, watched as Raven radioed the winch driver to take up the slack as the long cable running the length of the runway soon became taut. Raven signaled all out and the glider began its takeoff. Outpacing Toby within a few steps, the glider was soon airborne launching steeply upwards at 45 degrees. Toby jogged over, joining Daan who was standing watching. News of Raven’s solo had spread quickly and Daan and Toby were soon joined by Seb, Timo, and Hans. It was quite the audience.

Daan watched as the glider reached its zenith on the cable; a slight pitch down and the cable fell away. Raven was now flying free for the first time.

SWACK!

Laughter broke out amongst the group, as Timo rubbed the back of his head.

Daan tracked Raven’s progress through a pair of binoculars as he completed the upwind leg and turned left to make his crosswind leg. Another turn to the left and the glider was now flying back, parallel to the runway. At the end of the downwind leg, came the third turn flying at right angles to the end of the runway on the base leg.

One last turn to the left as Raven approached the runway on final, slowly making his descent to land. Daan subconsciously tightened his grip on the binoculars as he caught a flash of red from the airbrakes as they popped up out of the wings to slow and steepen the descent. Lower, and lower, until Raven crossed the runway’s threshold — flare — and touchdown! The glider rolled to a smooth stop almost exactly opposite to the group of on-lookers standing to one side on the flight apron. It was only then that Daan slowly let out the breath he didn’t realise he had been holding.

Toby, Hans, Timo, and Seb all in high spirits, surged forwards to help retrieve Raven’s glider from the runway after getting a thumbs up from Raven, still strapped tightly in the cockpit.

Daan remained quietly on the apron to await Raven’s return and the moment the canopy would pop open, where he too could offer Raven his congratulations. As he watched, his thoughts turned briefly to Seb — he would need a quiet word.

Raven popped the canopy open, with several hands and paws helping to unbuckle and haul him out of the glider. The mood all round was buoyant, every curve of the grin on Raven’s face totally earned. As the crowd dispersed, Daan tapped Seb gently on the arm and tilted his head towards a quieter spot on the field.

Once safely out of earshot of the others, Daan had his quiet word with Seb.

The briefest of frowns crossed Seb’s face before he answered.

Outwardly, Seb managed to hold his composure, but inwardly his internal variometer sank, as he let out a breath of sinking air. He didn’t need to ask why. He already knew.

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Later that day — Orchard

Seb sat alone on the swing in the orchard, lost in his own thoughts.

Watch your speed Seb, pull back gently, we gonna keep it under 55.

I approached too fast again… didn’t I…

Mhm.

Seb clenched and unclenched his hands. He was angry and frustrated at himself.

Why do I keep doing it? Why do I approach my landings too fast? Why can’t I get it right? Why can’t I fix this?

I know what I need to stop doing! But—I—still—keep—doing—it.

Then…

Why couldn’t I fix Red?

Mum, Dad… Davíð… before…

Seb felt a little paw on his back.

Seb looked up at Hamish, his little buddy who still sneaked into his bed on Sunday mornings.

Hamish nodded earnestly.

Seb broke a small smile.

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Same Day — Dinner

Daan, who had been at Headwall for four years, had never been late to dinner once, and Seb, knowing this, was waiting for him.

Seb ran his fingers through his hair, and looked at Daan, searching for an answer. He desperately needed something, anything.

And there it was. Seb looked Daan in the eye, speaking softly but with determination.

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One week later

Seb pushed the cable release lever closed.

Seb thumbed the radio switch on the stick.

As the cable attached just under the front of the glider tightened, Seb’s stomach tightened along with it. He thumbed the radio again.

The glider surged forwards, gaining speed. Seb pulled back firmly on the stick and the glider soared upwards, the sky above a darker shade of blue, and right at the very edges where the sky turned to indigo, three bright stars — visible in the daytime if you knew where to look.

Seb watched the altimeter clock over, 600, 700… 900, 1000 feet. Pitching the nose of the glider slightly down, he pulled the cable release. He was flying on his own for the very first time. Levelling off he checked his speed, 50 knots, no, not too fast, and not too slow. He made his first left-hand turn for the short crosswind leg, shortly after making the next left turn to start the long downwind leg. Seb checked his height and speed calling the numbers out aloud to himself.

He continued the leg flying parallel to the runway, keeping a good lookout for other gliders and aircraft that may have joined the circuit.

Seb thumbed the radio switch on the top of the stick.

Continuing his steady descent, it was time for the turn onto the base leg. Cockpit and pre-landing checks complete, Seb turned again to the left. At 400 feet he made the last turn on to his final leg. Speed 57 — no, that’s the speed with Daan in the back! I need to be at 49! Seb deployed the air brakes and his speed and height lowered… 300 feet, speed 51. Seb eased back on the stick a little, the glider bleeding off the extra 2 knots he needed. 49 knots. He was lined up with the runway and the threshold was approaching.

Crossing the threshold, Seb’s speed was bang on 49 knots. Easy… easy… flare, and touchdown. Wings level, pulling back on the stick, adjusting the rudder to keep the glider right down the centre line, and braking to a stop, exactly level with gliders parked on the apron! The glider tilted, and the left wing gently touched the ground. He gave a thumbs up to the approaching ground crew, and before he knew it the canopy had been popped, and he found himself being hauled out with many paws and hands.

And then there was Daan with a slack jawed toothy grin, his tongue lolling out in a gentle pant, and his tail waving slowly from side to side.

Seb’s feelings soared — sky high.

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Later that evening — Study

Later that evening at precisely 20.00 hours, Grandpa Jake’s phone rang.