Sunday, 12/10/2008
Despite the return trip being upstream, Amelia was making good time towards the finish line. She was happy with how it had gone. She’d gotten some nice pictures – or so she assumed, not being able to see them yet – and the area had been pleasurable to hike around in. As a cherry on top, the weather had indeed remained pleasant for the entire duration.
That’s when a glimpse of white caught her eye among a thicket of reeds along the shore. Curious, she tried slowing down but couldn't properly see what it was, but it seemed like something that shouldn't have been there. The kayak's momentum took it past the object before she could fully halt it, so she had to come ashore slightly further along the river. Once on the shore and having ensured the kayak wouldn't be drifting away, she set walking along the shoreline to where she'd spotted the white object.
Much to her surprise, as she approached it, it turned out to be a small aeroplane with floats. The wingspan was maybe a metre. She realized there was a good chance it was the same one she'd seen at the start of her trip while passing by the piers, given it appeared to be of the same type.
She couldn’t help but wonder how it ended up all the way over here. She figured it was at least another kilometre to the pier. It seemed like the plane had ploughed straight into the reeds, which had likely lessened the impact of the crash as well as kept it out of the water. The wings were both damaged – one had snapped, although it still held together. The other had torn clean off from near the fuselage. One of the floats had almost come off, and the strut it was attached to had bent. The fuselage itself, however, seemed to only have a few minor scratches and indentations.
Amelia had to wade into the water a bit to reach the plane. She drew a deep breath and let it out. A toy or not, looking at the crashed plane made her feel an uncomfortable tightness in her chest. Shaking her head vigorously to try and drive away such unwanted thoughts and feelings, she then carefully picked up the plane as well as the broken-off wing. Once back on the shore, she walked back to where her kayak was tied up and set the plane on the ground to take a closer look.
The plane was made from some sort of foam material. She noticed that there was a compartment in the fuselage under the main wing. The snapped wing was still attached to its support strut as well as what appeared to be a metal control wire for the wing's aileron. Carefully, she detached both and set all the wing parts aside. Examining the inside of the fuselage revealed various components that she wasn't familiar with but could at least mostly guess their function, given it wasn’t some sort of advanced spacecraft.
There was a long loose wire that didn't appear to be attached to anything other than having snagged onto something the control line connected to – some sort of motor with a lever? She surmised that it must've been some kind of an antenna for controlling the plane. The logical deduction was that somehow the control line or the motor it was connected to had pulled the antenna loose from where it was supposed to be, and it not being connected was why the plane had ended up here. It was still an impressive distance.
Turning the plane around so that she could see it from the other side, she then noticed a sticker on the inside wall of the fuselage. Upon closer examination, she saw that the sticker contained contact information; presumably the owner of the plane – ‘R. McCullough’ – and a phone number. She supposed that meant she could at least find whoever the owner was and return the plane. Presumably, it had some monetary value, after all. She then looked at the kayak, which was already packed very close to capacity, and groaned.
After somehow managing to safely tie the wrecked plane to the kayak without causing at least too much further damage, she finished the rest of the remaining few kilometres uneventfully. Upon reaching the shore where she'd set out from two days ago, she secured and unpacked the kayak and made sure it was in tip-top shape before walking up to the administrative office to let them know she was done and that the kayak had been returned. She handed over the paddle to the pleasant clerk on duty, gave her thanks with a smile, and walked back out. Picking her gear and the plane from where they were resting against the wall of the building, she set out towards the parking lot.
“Now then, time to see if this was all for nothing,” she muttered to herself as she packed the rest of her gear and grabbed her phone as well as the fuselage of the plane.
It took a good while for the call to get answered, but just as she was about to give up:
“Yes?”
“Uh, oh... hello.” Amelia was slightly taken aback by the curt, flat-toned response. “Is this...” She took another glance at the sticker inside the plane. “R. McCullough?”
“Yes, speaking.” A bit less curt, but still not particularly friendly sounding. She thought she could hear some sort of buzzing sounds in the background.
“Oh, good.” Amelia was also somewhat surprised that it was a woman. “I found this... miniature plane along the River Tay. It had your contact information on it.”
“I see.” There was a pause. “Thank you for retrieving it.” When it became apparent that she wasn't going to say anything more for some reason, Amelia continued instead.
“So, um, may I ask where you're from, to see if we can meet up to return this to you? It doesn't really seem like something easily sent by post without damaging it further.”
“That is true.” Another pause. “I live in Stirling. Does that work for you?”
“Ah, yeah. I live in Glasgow. I'm still by the river, so I could leave this with you on the way.”
“I am currently flying at another location, but I will be home shortly.”
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