The Reflection

During the days of lives gone by and long before sailing ships gave way to steam, the sailors of old only had skill, instincts, and superstition to guide them from hazardous shoals to safe harbor.  

When rising storms began turning daylight into darkness, reaching tentacles of lightning were the nightmare that could destroy the masts and spars of the ships that were wind-driven. The fickle devastation could end anything afloat, but when the charge of distant lighting began to cling and linger, St Elmo’s fire was a ghostly apparition and a glow in the rigging that no captain or crew could explain. 

A reflection of light upon still water can be an illumination as bright as the original source of light, and an echo can be easily as strong as the first sound to shatter a silence. When water moves with a current, a reflection can shimmer, shine, and beckon, when a true light or a sound in the fog will only offer a distraction. 

The airplane became a ship of the air almost as fast as the concept took off with the Wright Brothers. Before the days of air-conditioning in Florida, airplanes began flying over the Ten Thousand Islands and the Everglades to explore with a bird’s eye view, the primitive regions of Florida never seen by human eyes. 

In the photographic archives of Goodland, Marco, and the Isles of Capri, the majority of the untouched mangrove islands in the black and white photos look the same today as when pilots and passengers first held cameras and began to capture the likeness and echoes of a bygone era. 

Well before runways and landing strips were as common as gravel roads for Model-A Fords, floats with wheels were the method for fledgling airplanes to land in water or on flat fields of grass. The luxury of airports and new technology was far away for the newfangled sailors of the sky, but even today, when mysteries of the unknown begin to beckon, fear, instincts and superstition always become the copilots that are searching for a safe harbor… 

The floatplane was new and well-equipped with the latest technology. No expense was too great for the fledgling pilot and his new airplane that was to be his labor of love and hobby during retirement. The retirement home, the sports car, and the airplane were all part of. the dream for the golden years in the land of paradise. 

The pilot lessons went well, and soon, the newcomer to the skies was landing, taking off, and completing solo flights. The water landings were tricky and sometimes frightening, but the idea of flying over untouched land and an archipelago of islands that would easily equal any remote tropical forest in the world was too compelling to resist. 

After a few months of winter flying, the weather forecasts were as predictable and accurate as anything found online. The beautiful weather days were perfect for any type of boating or flying and soon, the new pilot began to become bored. The short flights were becoming tedious and repetitive, and with a new confidence building, the newcomer to aviation began to consider longer excursions with his floatplane that was perfect in every way. 

The idea of flying, visiting, and landing near Port Jefferson in the Dry Tortugas was a milestone that was becoming irresistible. The old fort was a relic from the Civil War and only accessible by boat or floatplane. 

The new pilot soon began to scrutinize the weather forecasts for the late spring and began to consider that the stormy months of summer were far away. There was a certain pride in flying the floatplane alone, and when the forecast online was perfect, the pilot took off in the clear predawn hours and leveled off at a south westerly heading with Port Jefferson just over the not-so-distant horizon. A full moon was setting in the clear sky, and the reflection on the water was as bright as the actual lunar body. After the drone of the single engine began to become dull, several small clouds began to build and cover the moon. The lunar reflection, however, was still very bright on the calm water. The shimmer was a clear beacon and. almost like a guiding light, which was perfectly matching the heading on the GPS. 

After another few minutes of following the moonlight, the rock steady engine began to cough and sputter like never before. There was nothing in sight but the clouds that were building and the reflection of the full moon on the water. After the first chill of apprehension began to crawl up the spine of the pilot, who was always flying alone, the droning engine began again to sound unsteady and unusual. When another few minutes became painstakingly slow history the pilot, who was the newcomer, began to notice that the GPS in the last hour before sunrise was showing a strange blinking light that was new. After the engine again started to sputter and pout, the open water was endless beneath the airplane, except for the growing clouds and the reflection of the moon on the water. After a radio operator in Nassau, Bahamas answered a desperate call to Key West, the fuel gauge on the new and perfect airplane was reading empty, and the avionics were making no sense. 

The new pilot suddenly awoke in a pool of sweat. He was in bed on the morning of the self-scheduled Fort Jefferson flight, but after a shudder, a shiver, and a superstitious feeling that would last for many days, the new pilot with the new airplane and new technology was suddenly a believer in the signs, and the signals, and reflections from the past.