WILD GIRL Chapter 9: Now, Helicopter in the Valley
Jud Malapit, chopper pilot, flies over Waimalia
A bit of HOUSEKEEPING before we get into today’s chapter: Please hit the ❤️ to tell me (and Substack!) that you’re reading. (If you’re new and care to, you may want to begin with the Prologue and read the other chapters to catch up!)
On Mondays you’ll also recieve a chapter of PASSAGES. You can opt out of one or the other by toggling them off in your Settings when you hit Unsubscribe at the bottom.)
ALSO: heads-up! If you were gifted a month’s FREE subscription, that will be coming to an end in one week. 🥴 If you’d like to upgrade and save, I have a special offer for you in this post!
WILD GIRL
Jud Malapit got up every morning that he had a flight with a secret sense of glee. He got to do what he’d dreamed of doing as a little boy: fly a chopper. Not only that, but be the one pilot allowed to fly over Waimalia Valley.
Jud had never wavered in his focus like other kids did. Growing up in a sugar cane camp village, there’d only been one realistic way to get to his goal: the military.
So he’d gone that route: got the training, earned the certs, flown the missions. All a stepping stone to now, doing a pre-flight safety check to fly over an area few ever got to see on the Big Island of Hawaii.
Jud went through his checklist, coordinating with the ground crew, and was ready for takeoff five minutes early.
Five VIPs from the Ali’i Land Trust came out of the hangar carrying their helmets, looking varying degrees of nervous; thankfully there was only one first timer, according to his manifest.
Jud greeted them and gave a brief safety talk, demonstrating the rubber-sealed airsick bag with a small joke that brought the usual nervous titter. He helped them on with their helmets. Did a comm check. Directed them to seats according to weight distribution, per usual, while making sure the head honcho chairman of the board sat up front with him.
Soon everyone strapped into their four-point restraints and Jud started his spiel. “Glad to have you flying with me this morning. Conditions are great today and we should have a smooth ride until we get deep into the Waimalia Valley, where there will be some wind off the canyon walls. The area we’re going over is generally a no-fly zone, but since you folks own the place, an exception has been made.”
Polite chuckles in the headsets.
Jud went on. “That said, there’s an unknown resident down there who’s been known to take pot shots at helicopters, which is why Waimalia Valley is off limits to flight tours. Your board mailed all the residents a notice of this flight a week ago, so hopefully that trigger-happy individual keeps his gun locked up. But in case he doesn’t—I want to review our emergency landing procedures.”
He did so, emphasizing the slightness of the risk.
He began the warmup for liftoff, and any thought or conversation the group might have tried to have was drowned by the rotors, even with the helmet headsets on.
Jud lifted the chopper and then took the group out along the coast from the Hilo Airport so the VIPs could enjoy the sights: Hilo Bay and town from above, waves breaking on the black lava rocks as they curved past, the black snake of the highway wrapping the land like a rubber hose tossed down among tall grass and trees.
Conditions were good; turbulence was minimal, which was nice for the passengers since the ocean was often blustery.
Twenty minutes later, the chopper reached the vast mouth of Waimalia Valley. Jud activated a GoPro camera mounted on one of the runners to capture video of the flight path as the VIPs’ coordinator had requested.
Chatter reached him on the comm as they flew across the wide bay with its mile-high, glacier-carved walls; mostly exclamations at the beauty of the place, the rainbows on the waterfalls, the wild horses galloping on the beach, spooked by their shadow overhead.
Jud had been instructed that he wasn’t to linger in the settled area of the Valley; the safety concerns were real. This flight was strictly an overview for the board members to get a look and feel for an area that was still, even in this modern age, nearly impossible to penetrate any other way.
“Keep it moving and take them straight to the viewing rendezvous point,” the rep who’d made the arrangements had directed him when sending over coordinates.
Jud glanced at the GPS as they flew over a patchwork of taro patch homesteads and along the thick green river, until it branched into three different streams. A dirt road wound below, crossing the streams, disappearing into stands of jungle. Little houses, a cleared dirt area with a dump, then nothing but green, more rivers and waterfalls.
The main valley was six miles deep and the route flew by in minutes—and that’s when it got interesting.
Keep reading with a 7-day free trial
Subscribe to PASSAGES: Travel the USA and more! to keep reading this post and get 7 days of free access to the full post archives.