Chapter 10

We woke refreshed. It was later than we thought, and breakfast in the Inn was well over before we emerged from the suite, showered, dressed, and hungry. Kalispell offers lots of dining options, but we were hungry, and close trumped exotic. We drove to Flathead Lodge and had a late breakfast.

Brenda glowed, Cindi chattered, and we lingered over each succulent bite.

Breakfast, or lunch – take your pick – took up so much of our day, we decided to take the scenic boat ride and see Flathead Lake. Boats were plentiful, but it took a little while to find an owner who would let us hire him to take us out for the afternoon. We finally hired Captain Norm, of Captain Norm's Fishing Fun. His twenty-six foot, ocean rated, cabin cruiser, had a fully enclosed cabin and restroom. Norm took us for an exceptional tour.

We saw Big Fork – a town, sort of – Somers Bay, and Woods Bay, along with just about the rest of Flathead Lake before dinner at the Sitting Duck Saloon. We ate on picnic tables outside in the sunshine. It was relaxing, refreshing, and downright fun. The people who lived on Flathead Lake were a mixture of hard boiled, outdoors types and extremely wealthy Californians, who flocked to Montana for low taxes and relief from the overly invasive California government. They commingled seamlessly and seemed to enjoy the vast social difference between them all.

We booked Norm for another day to take us to Wild Horse Island, the largest island (in terms of acreage) in the United States. We saw all the wildlife, including an occasional coyote on the island, while hiking, taking pictures, and generally enjoying life...

On a whim, I hired a local "light flight" aviation company to take us out in three weight shift trikes, to see the lake from a wonderful new perspective. We flew for about an hour and half, enjoying amazing scenery, incredible sights, and our pilots flew very low and slow over a single family home that was for sale for only seventy-eight million dollars.

Imagine being led out to three identical planes that looked like anything except airplanes. We were each strapped into the back seat of a little pod that was suspended below a hang glider wing, with an engine behind us that faced backwards. The pilots fixed us up with crash helmets that had the ear holes cut out, and headsets where the ear holes used to be. The headsets were very nicely made, had gel filled cushions that kept out the wind noise, and made it easy to hear the pilots when they spoke to us.

The pilot drove the plane using a bar just like you would fly a hang glider. The plane was very stable and quick, but not all that fast. You could spin around on a dime, but not feel like you were laying over on your side. The hang pin that held the pod to the wing allowed the wing to lean over while the pod hung free without following the angle of the wing.

Once we were airborne, the pilots chatted to us about the scenery, and their conversation was so mundane we all relaxed enough to enjoy the ride. Eventually Cindi started to chat with Brenda, the pilots, and me. "Mom, don't you wish we could do this ALL the time? It's amazing! I love it. I just love this thing!"

Brenda was not nearly as pleased about our aircraft as Cindi but did mention the scenery. "The whole world looks so much nicer from up here. David, can you see that big mansion on the left shore? It's the biggest thing I think I've ever seen."

We chatted amongst ourselves, eventually bringing the pilots into our conversation. My pilot was Kelvin. He was from Rochester, New York, and that got Brenda interested in talking about her year at Marist College. They chatted a long time about New York, while Cindi and I enjoyed the flight. I could sense from her voice that Brenda was relaxing, at least some, and was able to forget her fear long enough to enjoy Flathead Lake and all the magnificent mansions.

As we flew low over one of the many, many islands, Brenda said, "Wouldn't it be nice to hire a boat for the day and pick one of these islands for a picnic?" Cindi was all for it, and I promised to find out about rental boats.

When we were headed back towards the airport, but still almost twenty miles away, my pilot, Kevin, said, "Why don't you take hold of the bar where you see the hand holds and fly us for a little while?"

I carefully grabbed hold and let my arms find a comfortable perch before telling Tommy that I had a grip. He turned partway towards me and said, "I'm going to let go, and you just hold that bar steady. Don't get a death grip on it, and don't think you have to have to adjust for every little breath of wind that hits us. The Trike will keep flying straight on its own. All you need to worry about is making small corrections when the wind pushes us off course.

"Just relax and let the plane talk to you through the bar. It will, and if you listen, it will warn you before the winds take us out of our flight path, but you have to have a soft grip, and be patiently listening for when the plane speaks to you.

"Now try it," and he dropped both hands into his lap.

I could feel the instant he let go, as the bar suddenly was pushing into my hands, where before he absorbed all the little touches from the air. It didn't take long before the wind shoved us out towards the lake, instead of along the shore, and without really thinking about it or intending to, I slipped the plane right back into line.