It's all About the Approach

Getting to know and welcoming everyone in our community

It’s all About the Approach

My stomach was moving up and down along with the small aircraft as the sound of the engines seemed to keep time in accompaniment.  I have to tell you, the view out of the portal window, across my shoulder, was causing me concern as I watched the waves of the Caribbean Sea crash into the rocks below.  One moment it appeared as if the plane would follow the waves right into the rocky cliff and the next it seemed as if we might just make it safely onto a runway starting and finishing with sea cliffs on each end.  I had my doubts right up until the two rear wheels of the small craft touched the dusty dirt of the runway.

As soon as I felt the wheels touch the dry, level ground, the churning of the sea and my stomach seemed to come to an end.  Relief rushed through my body as the plane rushed toward the end of the runway and I gratefully gazed out of the window at the palm trees waiving a warm welcome to the island’s terminal.

Terminal?  It was more of a shack with its hand painted sign, “Utila International Airport,” which brought a smile to my mouth.  As did the stop of the plane.  The door opened and all ten or twelve passengers, and chickens, soon felt the same breeze as the waiving palms.  I ducked my head, took my first step and began descending the stairs.

The terminal was just to my right, near the bottom of those stairs, and I looked a little more to the right and saw another plane.  Well, sort of an air plane.  It was a non-flyer, looking as if it had been sitting there for a long time.  It was missing parts and seemed to be under construction.

“Under construction,” I thought to myself.  “Now that’s a story I’d like to hear.

And, it was a story I did hear in many versions as I lived and studied in this tropical setting.  It was a place of learning and adventure for me as I slept just down the street from the “Bucket of Blood” bar, studied Mangrove Swamp ecology, and listened to the story of a pilot who attempted to land that infamous plane while he was intoxicated.

Almost everyone on the island came running to the airstrip to see what had happened on that exciting day.  When they arrived, they found disaster and laughter.  The plane had come to rest nose down and the pilot was rolling in the dirt, a great distance away, laughing.  He had jumped out just before the crash.  Luckily, he wasn’t hurt.

It made me think more about my own approach to this same island and how I arrived feeling different, afraid and apart from those living there.  As I listened to my friends tell me the story of the laughing pilot I looked up to see other people deplaning.

“They look kind of funny,” I said, “like they don’t belong here.”

My friends smiled, saying the new arrivals looked just like I did, when I came. And, then I remembered my own arrival again. 

My stomach was moving up and down along with the small aircraft as the sound of the engines seemed to keep time in accompaniment.  The view out of the portal window, across my shoulder, was causing me concern as I watched the waves of the Caribbean Sea crash into the rocks below.  One moment it appeared as if the plane would follow the waves right into the rocky cliff and the next it seemed as if we might just make it safely onto a runway starting and finishing with sea cliffs on each end.  I had my doubts right up until the two rear wheels of the small craft touched the dusty dirt of the runway and I was welcomed into a warm and loving community.