I got a surprise call from Greg (Keiko's husband) Saturday around 1 pm. First, he apologized for waking me up. As if. Already that morning our paddling coaches had us run 3 miles, then do sprints in the sand for a bit, and then ... only then ... we set out for a three hour practice in the water.
The days of waking up past noon are history. I was already ready for pau hana cocktails (and, on cue, the waitress at the yacht club brought me my beer).
He called to invite me flying the next day. If I was interested on such short notice, that is. And, off course, my easy answer was, holy shit yeah. Greg spent eight years building a plane in his garage, and has just taken it out recently (not sure how recently, though).
So Sunday at ten I met him at the end of Lagoon Drive, and we took off into the wild blue ...
The days of waking up past noon are history. I was already ready for pau hana cocktails (and, on cue, the waitress at the yacht club brought me my beer).
He called to invite me flying the next day. If I was interested on such short notice, that is. And, off course, my easy answer was, holy shit yeah. Greg spent eight years building a plane in his garage, and has just taken it out recently (not sure how recently, though).
So Sunday at ten I met him at the end of Lagoon Drive, and we took off into the wild blue ...
trying to maintain my cool pre-flight
Ar traffic would call us on the radio, and I tried to tune out the "experimental" part of "experimental seven niner papa tango"
And Greg let me fly! I made it most of the way past Moloka`i before the turbulence made me too nervous. I did better on the return, going up and over clouds, then banking down and around, and pretty much having a grand time of it. And you thought god was your co-pilot. 
Greg tending his baby at Hana Airport.
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