When I landed in Helsinki, the middle leg of my previously-mentioned tour, I was met by the young pilot assigned to fly me to Kuopio. By odd circumstance that fellow was the very candidate I was to examine on the following Monday. Apparently those who arranged this scheme thought it would provide a pleasant avenue for us to become acquainted before we appeared together on a public stage (I’ll explain that later). I’d been assured the fellow was an accomplished pilot, so I settled myself comfortably in his single-engine aircraft, anticipating a pleasant flight, and having no inkling of the spectacle that lay ahead.
The day was June 19, 1987, an excellent time to arrive in Finland, for it was Midsummer Eve in that country, a special time I discovered, and one loaded with traditions. One colorful custom sends multitudes of folks hustling off to nearby lakes, almost all to gather timber and pile it into huge clumps. Then, just as daylight fades, to set all ablaze.
I knew none of this as I we taxied to our runway, I paying alert attention to the commercial jets lumbering tall around us. After receiving permission from the control tower, we accelerated with all the energy a single propeller can provide and gradually reached the speed necessary to ease us off the ground. Remembering those moments now, I’m sure everything had been carefully planned, for our airplane gained altitude just as light was fading.
Southern Finland, the part over which we flew, is awash with lakes, huge lakes, some of them snaking along for fifty miles and more. From our height we had superb views of those expansive stretches. Large areas of water gleamed like scattered puddles filled with rain. I quickly noticed other things were afoot along the waters’s edges. Sparks flared and rapidly grew into dots of fire along the shores. More and more fires appeared, all with orangish hues of burning timber. Fires exploded everywhere, hundreds of them marking the irregular intersections between land and water, and all of them sliding smoothly beneath us, their patterns changing constantly, each seemingly more incredible than the last.
We probably were some 1,500 to 2.000 feet above the earth for most of the flight, that height providing a broad view of the bonfires. On and on we flew for a couple of hours, conversing over the drone of the engine, discussing what we were seeing below, and occasionally dipping down for closer observations, ever alert for new sightings.
Although I’ve flown in other small planes, none has gripped me like that singular flight into the dark. Night had taken over completely by the time we reached Kuopio. Bonfires still burned brightly along Lake Kallavesi as we landed, I realizing at that moment, as I suspect the pilot did too, that our next adventure together would play in a different key, for I would be the one with the wheel in my hands. I’ll unravel that story next time.
