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dscooperbooks

~ author D. S. Cooper

dscooperbooks

Monthly Archives: September 2015

On Dynamite Mountain

17 Thursday Sep 2015

Posted by Doug in D. S. Cooper Books, This Writer's Life

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Amazon Kindle, Amputee, Appalachian Folklore, Carson Long Military Academy, Ghosts, The Old Cadet, Writing

A brief excerpt from my second novel, The Old Cadet

They had not ventured far off the trail and into the forest when Derek stopped and pointed at the ground.

“Try not to step on it. This is one of the oldest living things on Earth.”

Lulu bent down and took a closer look at the vines.

“Blueberries?”

“No,” Derek said with a hint of reverence, “this is a box huckleberry plant.”

“Explain, please.”

“All this is one plant,” Derek pointed to low vines spread among the trees in the distance. “The box huckleberry reproduces by spreading roots and cloning itself. Individual trees and bushes come and go, but these same vines might have been clinging to this hillside for a thousand years. Maybe more.”

“And why does some mountain man care about these scraggly vines?”

“I have no idea why. But, find the box huckleberry, and you might see boomer.”

Lulu stood up. Then she turned and yelled, “Boomer! Boomer! Come out and talk to me!”

“I told you,” Derek laughed as her words echoed down the hillside. “He’s deaf.”

She gave Derek an exasperated look and bent down to grasp a sprig of the plant.

“What do you think you’re doing?”

“You may believe in folklore. I do not. I want to have this plant identified by an expert.”

“I’m serious. That really is one of the oldest living things on Earth. I wouldn’t take it.”

“You’re not one to talk,” she said as she broke off a few inches of vine. “You murder innocent animals for trophies.”

“I have a covenant with the animals. You haven’t spent enough time in the wilderness to understand it.”

“I have a master’s degree in electrical engineering, Mister Yeager,” Liu Chen said as she as she tucked the sprig into her collar. “Please don’t tell me what I don’t understand.”

“Fine,” Derek said, walking back to the trail. “Suit yourself.”

When they reached the trail, they took off running uphill again.

“So,” Lulu asked as they ran, “what is the other thing Boomer cares for?”

“I’ll tell you later.”

“Why not now?”

“You’re too smart for me, Lulu.”

They stopped at the clearing on the top of Dynamite long enough to look back at the town of New Manor and the Ethan North campus. The spire of the chapel, the roof of Founders Hall, and the crown of the bell tower were below them among the trees. Then Derek led Lulu down the path on the backside of the mountain, which took them to the abandoned farmhouse and down to the covered bridge across Sherman’s Creek.

There was not much traffic on the back road. They walked into the shadows inside the bridge and examined the beams of the ancient structure. The sun shone through the gaps between the barn-board sheathing and illuminated the interior in pinstripes of light.

“Let’s take a break down here,” Derek suggested and led her to the grassy bank under the bridge. They sat against the stone underpinnings of the bridge, and he took apples and bottles of water from his rucksack.

“There are two things I wish to tell you, Derek.”

“Shoot.”

“First, there is … was … a man in my life.”

“Good for you,” Derek bit into his apple.

“Secondly, Jonathan was very happy at Ethan North. He loved the school.”

“Good for him.”

When a car came by, the timbers of the roadway over their heads rattled and rang in succession like the keys of a giant xylophone.

“Now, what brought you to Ethan North, Mister Derek Yeager?”

“Things weren’t so great at home,” Derek shrugged.

“You were happier here?”

“I was. It was like growing up with one hundred and sixty equally screwed-up brothers, Lulu.”

“That’s exactly what Jonathan told me,” she laid back on the grassy bank and ate her apple. “Except that he omitted the screwed-up part.”

Amelia Dupont photo, by permission

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The North Atlantic

15 Tuesday Sep 2015

Posted by Doug in D. S. Cooper Books, This Writer's Life

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Amazon Kindle, Royals All The Way!, Sea Stories, Writing

Eagle3

A brief excerpt from my third novel, ROYALS ALL THE WAY!

They did go below in time to get some sleep, but the wind freshened and the seas picked up during the night. When the steel plates on the deck drains above their berthing area began to slam shut with each wave that slammed into the side of the ship, none of the cadets slept. So Kyle, Melinda and Ben weren’t exactly refreshed when they were roused out of their bunks at zero three thirty hours for the dawn watch.

“Better hang on.” Ben laughed, when the ship felt like a living creature, making random movements under their feet as they dressed.

“This is spooky,” Kyle whispered when they stepped out onto the main deck and looked skyward. The sails and rigging were making giant arcs across the heavens as the ship rolled. Ragged clouds surged past the moon, which backlit the sails in an eerie gray-scale light, like a photographic negative.

The midnight watch had doused and furled the royal sails. When the salt spay came over the rail and wet their cheeks, they raised the hoods of their sweatshirts.

“It’s magnificent,” Melinda mused. The whitecaps caught the silver moonlight as if the sea were a shimmering plateau of sequins, all the way to the horizon.

“I don’t know,” Kyle doubted. “All of a sudden this ship doesn’t look that big.”

They mustered on the sterncastle and stood a trick at the wheel while the summer ensign took bearings on the running lights of passing ships on the distant horizon. There was a long whispered discussion about which lights in the sky were stars and which were planets. And they tried to piece together the constellations in the gaps between the silver-fringed clouds, which seemed to be getting lower as dawn approached.

“That’s Constellation Boeing,” Ben laughed when they all realized that one of the twinkling silver lights they were studying was not a star but a jet airliner, bound for New York or Boston.

The breeze continued to freshen and back to the south, which pushed them northward, towards the high reaches of the North Atlantic where there were icebergs in the springtime. So, in the blue-gray twilight before dawn, their watch was sent aloft to furl the topgallants.

“The wind is really howling up there,” Melinda said with a trace of reluctance.

“It’ll be sporty for sure,” Ben laughed as he scrambled up the ratlines like a hungry spider in his web. “Go large, or stay on deck.”

“You’ll be all right,” Kyle nudged her hip with his own as they started up the rigging behind Ben. “Just stay close to me.”

Ben reached the topgallant first and clambered out to the tip of the spar. Melinda was between the boys, heaving the heavy canvas up while the wind tried to pull it out of their grasp. Kyle was the tallest and strongest, but Ben was wiry and determined, and they all three worked well together.

Just as they finished lashing the sail to the spar, the first rays of the sun came between the horizon and the clouds, making Melinda’s eyes flash green above cheeks which were rosy from the salt air. Kyle raced down the ratlines ahead of the others. But when Melinda reached for the ratlines, Ben tugged on the sleeve of her sweatshirt to hold her back.

“Can you keep a secret?”

Then, without warning, he stole a long first kiss on her lips.

“Ben!” Melinda said as they stepped off the topgallant spar and climbed down the ratlines, side by side. “Never do that again!”

“Never?”

“You couldn’t have picked a more inappropriate moment, Ben. What if Lieutenant Brown saw that?”

“Lieutenant Brown can’t see us up here. When is a better time?”

“Never in public.” She climbed down faster as if she really wanted to get away from him. “And never on the ship!”

“Blame it on the salt air. Melinda.” He kept pace at her side as they neared the deck. “You’ve never looked more beautiful.”

“You’re awful, Bennett Laird.”

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Hangar Flying

14 Monday Sep 2015

Posted by Doug in Breakfast Flights

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Amputee pilot, aviation, Flying, Taunton Municipal Airport

Hangar Flying

So, yet another Sunday morning of poor flying weather, with marginal VFR conditions over Taunton but lower clouds all around. Oh well, that’s New England!

Luckily the Taunton Pilots Association had planned their first monthly hangar breakfast for this week. It was a shame that friends could not fly in to join us, but we’ll hope for better weather next time.

Frank, Al, Steve and Nina did the setup and cooking. Luckily we didn’t run out of food! We’ll have more “vittles” (as Frank says) on hand next month.

HONORED GUEST

We were fortunate to have TPA Life Member Sue King in attendance at breakfast, even though she had to drive from the summer cottage on the Cape to be with us. Her family started our airport over ninety years ago, and where we were standing in the hanger was once the King Dairy Farm. Ironically, she couldn’t get through the gate without one of us “newcomers” going out to let her in, since for reasons none of us can fathom, management does not allow the gate access codes to work on the weekends!

LOW CEILINGS STRIKE AGAIN!

Also in attendance was Almost-a-Private-Pilot Max Frattasio, age 17, who completed the oral exam and pattern work of his private pilot check-ride this week. When the examiner asked him about starting out on the cross country phase, Max wisely replied that the 1,400 foot ceiling was a bit too low to venture to New Haven. So hopefully, he will complete the cross-county and air-work requirements to obtain his private pilot certificate before our next breakfast flight.

Happy Flying!

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Flying Uncontrolled

07 Monday Sep 2015

Posted by Doug in Breakfast Flights

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Tags

Amputee pilot, aviation, Flying, Taunton Municipal Airport

crosswind entry

Our breakfast flights often take us to non-towered airports.

That was the case this week, when we flew to Plymouth for breakfast at Plane Jane’s. It happened to be some the finest flying weather of the year, so the traffic pattern was full of airplanes and the radio chatter was intense.

Now, we can safely land a lot of airplanes in short order, such as for the pancake breakfasts at Cranland, which might attract 30 ships as soon as the grille warms up.  But two airplanes occupying the same airspace at the same time is always a concern, especially since our fields of view are limited by cowlings, wings and cabin floors.

Communication is helpful. Courtesy is helpful. Rude (and often erroneous) comments on the radio are counter-productive. So maybe the most important thing we need to control when flying at an “uncontrolled airport” is the transmit button under our thumb.

Happy flying!

Gerry and Rich

Being and old guy who never flew for a living, one of the things I really enjoy about flying is watching young pilots come into their own.

So I flew to the Vineyard on Saturday for dinner with two Taunton pilots who flew to Oshkosh with me in my Skylane in 2009 (Gerry also made the trip in 2007 and 2008). At the time they had newly minted instrument ratings, and they got to use them on those trips! Both went on to fly Cessna 402s for Cape Air and now they’re both Pilatus PC-12 captains for a fractional ownership operation. Which means multiple legs on most days, in all sorts of weather and a lot of experience with advanced avionics and systems.

So well done, Gerry and Richard!

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