Caribbean Castaways

Written for Summer Lovin' Story Contest 2023.

Précis: A veteran helicopter pilot is stranded for a night with a younger woman, set in The Bahamas.

Thanks to Kenji Sato for editorial assistance.

Caribbean Castaways

The morning air is smooth, and slightly cool, at two-thousand feet. The sparkling topaz waters of the Bahamas are in accord with the cloudless blue sky. The pilot, 'Cob' Swanson, spots a sea turtle below, diving away from the beat of his rotor blades.

"Sorry dude," he says, and hears the intercom activate to his voice, relaying his words back to his ears. The other headset in the cabin is unplugged. He's flying solo, in a Bell 47G helicopter that is more than a decade older than his own forty-four years.

Cob is enjoying the tranquility, despite the cacophony being emitted by his ride. His noise-canceling headset is doing its part, but doesn't negate the many vibrations of the craft. The slowest being the two-bladed main rotor, currently spinning at 340 RPM. Above that frequency is the tail rotor, geared to spin six times faster, but turning in the vertical plane. The piston engine is running at 3,000 RPM, with its accompaniment of lesser oscillations, from the camshaft and valve train.

Subconsciously, Cob is attuned to these vibrations - feeling for any changes that might warn of a problem. Consciously, he has tuned them out, so he can enjoy the serenity of the morning, even while wearing the necessary hearing protection. It's an ability acquired through thousands-of-hours, flying helicopters.

Eleuthera Island is part of the Great Bahama Bank. A long, thin, arc of coral and sand, that is separated from Nassau by fifty miles of shallow water. The island is only a mile wide at some points, but just over a hundred miles long.

Cod is currently flying over the shallow waters to the west of the island, inside the crescent of land. He is taking the direct route from Rock Sound Airport, to an abandoned airfield, just to the west of Freetown. As he approaches landfall, he lowers the collective lever in his left hand, a little, and slightly adjusts the angle of the rotor plane, using the cyclic lever located between his legs. Then makes a throttle adjustment, with the twist-grip in his left hand. This is all done instinctively. Helicopters are inherently unstable vehicles, like a bicycle, requiring constant inputs to keep them in check. Every control input causing a secondary, and tertiary response, that also requires correction.

Given enough practice, anyone who can ride a bicycle, can also learn to fly a helicopter. It's no harder than standing upright - another inherently unstable position that requires constant input to maintain. Helicopter pilots start out as toddlers, taking their first steps. They understand the concept - they've seen it done - but in practice it's hard, at least at first. Eventually, the coarse movements are minimized, the body becomes accustomed to countering little imbalances, before they require aggressive correction.

Given time, children can stand on one foot, the various muscles in their ankle firing instinctively to keep them upright, leaving their mind free to pursue other thoughts. As a pilot, Cob is past the stage of standing on one foot - he can make a helicopter dance. Or, more usefully, safely take-off from sloping ground in a gusty cross-wind.

It's a nice day for filming, Cob thought. There's some wispy cirrus clouds, high in the troposphere, to soften out the harsh sunlight. The forecast is clear for the next few days, due to a high-pressure system over the Bahamas.

He has been hired for two days. This isn't a typical travel show-type job, flying some TV personality, and their cameraman, to various scenic spots. He knows from the earlier negotiations that the shoot is for a music video. Some young starlet named 'Andromeda' is filming a video for her latest pop song. It's also different because the helicopter will be featured, and has been re-painted for the event.

He had looked up Andromeda during his early discussions with the producer. He listened to some of her earlier singles, but only recognized one of them. Maybe from the car radio or, perhaps, the bar's jukebox. It sounded synthetic, like most modern pop, he thought. Definitely Auto-Tuned vocals, a saccharine-sweet melody, overlaid with a programmed dance beat from a drum machine. With the progress of AI and deep-fake videos, they'll soon be able to do away with the pretty girls, too. Bake the whole damn recipe on computer, he thought.

Cob makes a radio-call as he descends through one-thousand feet, and is down to seven-hundred feet, as he overflies the abandoned airfield. He sees half-a-dozen vehicles parked on the old tarmac, and a large green square painted on the ground, which he recognizes as 'green-screen' green. This is a larger production than any travel show, or nature documentary, he'd supported to date.

He slows and turns, while descending to three-hundred feet for another pass over the tarmac. Checking for any wind, power lines, radio masts, tall trees, birds, or loose items that could be dislodged by his down-wash. All the usual precautions. Thankfully, they had left an open area of tarmac for him to use, so he selects the best approach direction and circles around again. Keeping his airspeed up until he clears the tree-line again, and can descend into a flare, washing off all forward speed just as the landing skid kisses the ground and settles. All the while, he's watching a woman walk towards his landing spot with a phone in her hand, filming him in landscape. She doesn't get close enough to cause him to abort, but he's a little annoyed that he had to watch her, expending his attention on her actions, instead of looking for other hazards.

The collective lever is all the way down now, releasing all lift from the rotors. He rolls off the throttle while watching the tachometer, making sure the centripetal clutch disengages normally. There's no rotor-brake on this aircraft. The woman is still filming him and getting closer, so he tilts the rotor plane away from her and adds some collective pitch, not enough to lift off, just to add some drag, slowing the blades down faster. He makes a 'stop' gesture with his right hand and she gives a nod of acknowledgement, then kneels down, while continuing to film.

Cob completes the shut-down procedure. He leaves the engine idling until the cylinder head temperature drops, then moves the mixture control to 'cut off,' so the engine dies. Then turns the ignition master-switch off. The rotor RPM is well below two-hundred, so he adds full collective pitch, until the blades are no longer turning fast enough to kill. He releases the collective lever, tightens the friction-lock on the controls, removes his headset and safety harness, then hops out. He gestures to the woman that she can come closer now, he wants to talk to her about keeping a safe distance.

"Sorry," she says, as she reaches the shade cast by the high-mounted fuel tank, "I've done helicopter operations before. Slinging Bambi buckets for CAL-FIRE, back when they had Long Rangers, but you didn't know that. I probably spooked you."

"Yeah, okay, I'll spare you the safety briefing," Cob replies, "but I like to choose my own ground crew, so keep a rotor-diameter away from the blades. Unless you're one of the film crew I'll be working with today?"

"I am indeed. I'm a camera operator, as well as logistics," she answers.

"With a cell phone?"

"Yes. I'm Second Phone. My name is Millie," she says.

"Second Phone? Can't you afford a proper camera?" Cob asks.

Millie smiles, "Of course we can. We've got three RED Ravens and some Sony FS7s in the van. But we're also filming a 'behind the scenes' video. That needs to be shot with a phone to look authentic on social media. So, Aki Kuru is operating the cinema cameras. Eduardo, the creative director, is first phone, documenting the making of the video. And I'm second phone, getting all the extra shots that Eduardo can't. The 'making of' will get released as the music video drops. It helps build the hype."

"Oh. I guess I'll be learning a lot today," he says.

"She's a beauty," says Millie, looking at the army-green helicopter with 'M*A*S*H' painted on the side, "a Sioux, isn't it?"

"That's the military designation for the H-13. This old girl never served, she was a crop duster when sold, in 1967. A Bell 47G-4. We just painted her in olive drab on your Director's request."

"You don't like it?" Millie asks.

"I think the whole 'MASH' look is a bit overdone. Every second 47 is painted that way. It's not even the right variant, this G model has the twin fuel tanks. Or in the right environment, here in the tropics," he says.

"They used to fly in the jungle. Didn't they?"

"You're thinking of Vietnam. MASH was set in the Korean War. A lot of kids died from exposure in the winters there. Yet, here we are, using their heritage to make a pop video in the Bahamas," Cob says.

Now it's Cob's turn to apologize, "Sorry. I don't think your audience will pick up on those subtleties. And it might prompt some of them to investigate deeper into the history."

"No, that's a useful insight. We don't want to disrespect our veterans. We weren't even thinking of that aspect," she says. "And I'm guessing you're Cob, from the name tag?"

"Yes. Henry, but I go by Cob now."

"Your call sign?" she asks.

"Yeah. I had a tail rotor failure on my first solo flight in the Army. Had to put down in a corn field. After seeing the mess it made, everyone presumed I got a corn cob stuck up my ass," he says.

"So, Cob it is then."

"Up until I crash into a pineapple plantation," he answers.

She laughs. She's even prettier when she's smiling, he observes.

"Come, I'll introduce you to the crew," she says.

The next fifty minutes is spent planning the day with the crew. The forecast is fine, so they want to get the critical shots done first. The close-ups of Andromeda and her love interest - an actor named Mark - in the helicopter. Andromeda will be 'piloting' the rescue aircraft, while Mark lies on the 'litter' - a wire basket bed, affixed between the landing struts, laying external to the cabin.

Like a rotor-brake, the Bell 47 has a factory-approved kit for external litter carriers, but these aren't fitted to Cob's aircraft. However, it does have the 'long box' cargo carriers, that are useful for hauling paddle-boards, or scuba gear, and they are passably similar to the beds. At least, to the untrained eye.

Cob isn't about to fly anyone external to the cabin, even with the approved kit. So all the shots of Mark would be done on the ground, against the green screen. The aerial footage will be done with a dummy.

"Okay. I'll move the helo over to the green screen, then your crew can mount the cameras," Cob says to Jaylen, the director. "How about you put second-phone in the passenger seat, to get some B-roll?" Millie is standing a little behind him with a big grin, giving him the thumbs-up sign.

"Sure. Good idea," Jaylen agrees.

A few minutes later, Cob is doing a quick walk-around inspection, while Millie is strapping into the single passenger seat.

"I thought these were three-place cabins?" she asks, as Cob climbs into the pilot's seat.

"Usually. But the crop-duster models only got the bare basics. So only two seats," he answers, while handing her the second headset and plugging in the cable.

The engine is still warm, so the start-up process is quick, and soon enough, they are into a hover, crabbing sideways over to the painted tarmac. Millie is recording it all on her phone, using the wide-angle lens. Cob orients the cabin to face into the sun and gently settles onto the green painted surface. Shutting down once again.

"Thanks," says Millie. "I was hoping for a flight in one of these classics, but didn't think it would happen."

"Well, it was only sixty seconds, and about eighty feet, but it counts as a flight. I'll add your name to my log-book entry. That'll make it official," he jokes.

When the rotors are almost stopped, he gives her the okay to disembark. Aki and Eduardo are already waiting to bring their camera gear over. But first to approach is a young kid, carrying a cordless leaf-blower to clear the debris off the green-screen. It looks like he also styles his hair with the leaf blower, Cob thinks to himself.

Cob stays with the helicopter, to oversee the mounting of the camera equipment, and incorporate an audio feed into the helicopter's intercom. Meanwhile, Millie stays close by, filming with her phone, leaving Eduardo to shoot the wider shots. Cob notices that first and second 'phone' seem to have swapped roles, for now. Still, he is happy to chat with Millie, answering questions about flying, living in the Bahamas, running a charter business, which famous people he's flown, the biggest yachts he's landed on, and so on. The whole crew seems to be competent and friendly. Far better than some television celebrities he'd worked for. That's about to change, he thinks, as the van from the nearby resort shows up, disgorging Andromeda, with her entourage of five young girls.

Cob looks at his watch, it's 09:05. "It looks like your star is out of bed. Now it gets hectic."

"Don't be too judgmental," says Millie. "I guess you got up at dawn, to make it here by eight?"

"Yes."

"Well, Andromeda and her dancers were up over an hour before you. Wardrobe, makeup, bussing it to location. They were shooting a dance segment at dawn. Although, they did get back to the resort for some breakfast, while the rest of the crew were setting up here," Millie explains.

"Oh. So she isn't a little cocaine-snorting brat?"

"Definitely not. She's lovely, and hardworking, so be nice to her, please."

"Okay," Cob agrees, "I'll reserve judgment. And I'll be civilized," he adds, noticing the anxious look on Millie's face.

"How long have you known her?" he asks.

"I first met her last night, at the resort. We're all staying there. This crew is based in Miami, she's down from Boston, I think. I don't know about the dancers."

Cob watches, as Andromeda approaches the helicopter, with two of the dancers in tow. She has a smile for everyone they pass, and a few friendly words for most of them, calling them each by name.

Millie and Cob walk to the front of the helicopter as they arrive. More smiles from the starlet. Cob sees that she doesn't quite reach his chin. She must only be around five-foot-tall, he estimates - the promotional photos he looked at didn't convey that. Otherwise, in person, she looks as attractive as her poster-prints, undoubtedly hanging on many teenagers' bedroom walls.

"Hi Millie," she says. "This is Jodie and Yvonne," nodding a glance at the two dancers either side of her, who are barely any taller than Andromeda.

"Hi," Millie says, "This is Cob, the pilot."

"Hello. I'm looking forward to working with you. Are you going to be the one flying me around later?" she asks, respectfully.

"Yes. It's just me doing the flying," Cob answers.

"Ooh. I can't wait. I've never flown without doors before." Andromeda's excitement seems to be shared by the two dancers, who still seem to be full of energy despite their early start, and whatever dance routine they've already performed this morning.

"We brought some fruit and cold water with us in the van. Do you want anything?" Andromeda offers.

"Thank you. No. I'll stay and help out here," Cob says.

"Okay. I'd better get back to makeup. They want to brush out some of the hairspray, so it blows around with the wind-machine. But I'll bring some water for you when I come back," Andromeda says, with a smile and a single wave. After a quick greeting to Aki, and Eduardo, she's headed back to the parked vehicles with a spring in her step, the two dancers beside her.

When they're out of earshot, Cob turns to Millie and says, "Now I feel like a prick. I've underestimated everyone today. You, the crew, Andromeda. I thought she'd be a spoiled bitch, but she turns out to be some kind of young Dolly Parton - caring, generous, knows everyone's name, and is fun. I can see why you stood up for her."

"Yeah, she's a sweetie," Millie agrees, "but you were right about her being little."

"I haven't met the actor, Mark, yet. Maybe he'll be a disappointment," he jokes.

"Oh, but you have. He was the kid with the leaf blower. Cleaning off the green-screen, after your rotors blew crap all over it," she laughs.

"Well, that explains his trendy hairstyle. But I bet that mannequin-Mark is useless."

"Yeah. He's a worthless lay-about," she laughs.

Wow, there's that smile again - she really is very pretty, Cob thinks, and has a sudden interest in whether she's wearing a wedding ring. He'll have to take notice when she next has her hands up, filming on the phone.

~

Half-an-hour later they are ready to start filming. Andromeda is in the left-hand seat. Live-action Mark is lying on the external cargo tray, to her left, his head about eighteen inches away from her hip. Cob is in the right-hand seat, with the cushions removed, so he is less prominent. There's a pedestal-fan blowing in through the right-hand door, providing air movement for visual effect, plus some cooling, as the day warms up.

The rotors won't provide much airflow, because Cob has the collective lever tied down with a strap, in addition to the friction lock, for safety. The director wants the rotors spinning to provide the motion effect. Apparently, the spinning shadows would be difficult to add, as a post-production special effect.

Andromeda is wearing Cob's 'David Clark' headset, because it's green and matches the aesthetic Eduardo is looking for as the creative director. Cob is left with the black 'Peltor' brand headset. The audio feed they added lets them hear a looping track of Andromeda's song. So she can sing along with the correct meter, and more easily be matched with the audio, during editing.

Cob isn't the only one learning a lot today. Andromeda is enthusiastically asking questions about flying, the instruments, the control functions, the centripetal clutch, and how to correctly operate the engine. Within an hour, Cob has vacated the cabin and is letting Andromeda control the throttle - bringing the rotor speed up to 200 RPM, while making sure the clutch isn't slipping, then rolling the throttle back to idle, while they filmed another take. She's genuinely excited to be controlling the machine by herself.

The film crew love it, too. They quickly adopt some new camera positions, just so they can show Andromeda is indeed alone in the cabin, singing down to the 'rescued' Mark. Cob stays close to the passenger door, ready to jump in and kill the ignition, if needed, but Andromeda is following all of his instructions.

The crew capture their precious footage, with the 'real' Mark, and break for lunch at 12:40.

~

The afternoon's shoot is more of the same; Andromeda, lip-syncing at Mark, while Aki captures a variety of camera angles. Employing a mix of tripod, Steadicam, and dolly mounts.

By mid-afternoon, after hours of direct sun, Cob can feel the heat being radiated off the asphalt. Andromeda benefits a little from the pedestal fan, but even that is just circulating hot air.

Everyone is relieved when Jaylen calls, "That's a wrap for the day."

Cob leans into the cabin to turn off all the switches and shut off the fuel feed.

"Good work. You did well, today," he says to Andromeda, as she removes her headset, then rubs around her ears.

"God, I need a swim. Or some air-conditioning, at least," she says. "Thanks for being so helpful."

"No problem. I'm going over to the vehicles. My forty-four-gallon drum is in the back of a truck, somewhere. I need to find out who has the keys, before they all leave."