Melt My Wings

By Tom Lee

Jim Icarus is a handsome twenty-two year old who is invited to trek to the base camp of Mount Everest by his Dad, Alex. His adventures start by saving a boy from a burning helicopter. He falls in love with Charley, a pretty emergency physician. She helps resuscitate his Dad who succumbs to high altitude mountain sickness in Dingboche, Nepal. By luck a working group who has spent the summer and fall cleaning the trash from the base camp of Mount Everest is camped a few hundred yards from Jim's trekking party when his Dad goes into high altitude cerebral edema. Their Gamow hyperbaric bag is successful in resuscitating his Dad out of coma, but unfortunately Alex slips back into coma. Good fortune smiles again when a French physician from the High Altitude Mountain Rescue clinic in Pheriche arrives with her Jacque Cousteau designed hyperbaric chamber that will pressure the victim down to sea level. An injection of Niphedapine under Alex's tongue and a dive in the Cousteau bag brings Alex out of his coma once again. Alex survives a trip to a lower altitude on a makeshift stretcher with oxygen flowing, but is in poor condition. Only a daring helicopter rescue offers any hope, but leaves Jim wondering about the fate of his Dad. The rest of the trekking party marches up the trail and eventually five members summit Kala Patthar, but not without another high altitude sickness casualty. Meanwhile, Jim hurries down the mountain only to have to wait in Lukla for a flight back to Kathmandu. Alex recovers unbeknownst to Jim and sight sees around Kathmandu. Charley transports the other coma patient by rescue helicopter, but never quite hooks up with Jim. Jim finally meets his Dad and they recount the events that nearly melted their wings.

• Language: English
• Publisher: AuthorHouse
• Release date: Feb 25, 2011
• ISBN: 9781456732370

Tom Lee

Tom Lee is a graduate of Michigan State University. He is a retired Marine of twenty years. After retirement he trained to fly aircraft, eventually flying Medivac, corporate, and finally for the airlines commercially. Now retired from the airlines he has settled into his third career as an author. Tom’s other books are - There’s a Turtle on the Runway and other flying stories. Retribution is Tom’s fourth book in the series involving Ryan, Scout, Gunny, Cate, Amanda and others. 

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Table of Contents

1. Welcome to Kathmandu

2. Back to the Malla Hotel

3. Cocktails and Conversation

4. Getting Acquainted

5. Waiting for the Bus

6. To Kill a Goat

7. Flight to Lukla

8. Lukla for Lunch

9. On the Trek

10. Up the Dudh Kosi River

11. Trek to Namche Bazaar

12. Mount Everest View

13. Thanksgiving Dinner

14. The Trek to Tengboche

15. Tengboche Monastery

16. Trek to Dingboche, a Prelude

17. Dying from High Altitude Sickness

18. Hope and Hyperbaric Chambers

19. An Uncertain Future

20. Sherpa Power

21. Rescue Helicopter

22. Onward and Kathmandu by Night

23. Running Down the Mountain

24. Recovery and Trekking to Lobuche

25. Reflection

26. Windstorms, Peace

27. Downhill Trekking

28. Sight Seeing

29. Lukla

30. Kala Patthar

31. Kathmandu

32. Determination and Happiness

33. The Unknown

34. Moving

35. Disappearing Angel and a Reunion

36. Welcome Back

37. Near Disaster

38. Remembrance and a Mythical Flight

1. Welcome to Kathmandu

James Icarus or Jim as he preferred to be called was twenty-two and the youngest member of the trekking group. He had finished his degree in sociology at the University of California, San Diego, in June and gladly joined his Dad, Dr. Alexander Icarus, for a trek in Nepal. He was six feet tall with dark hair, strikingly handsome Greek features and in great shape after competing on the University’s cross country and track teams. He was the first person off the bus.

"Namaste, Welcome to Nepal," said Mr. Soli Chawla, Mountain Travel’s trek coordinator for Dr. William Wright’s trekking group.

"Namaste," Jim replied, recalling the list of words his guide book on Nepal said to remember. Not even the bite of the late November morning could change Jim’s enthusiasm for the trek to the base camp of Mount Everest and a chance to summit Kala Patthar, an 18,000 plus foot mountain. He was anxious to get to Lukla and begin the trek into the Himalayas. Jim was a little tired from his late arrival in Kathmandu the night before and the early morning wake-up, but neither the short night’s sleep nor the hot, noisy, bumpy bus ride from the Malla Hotel in Kathmandu back to the airport, the jumping off point for the trek, had dampened his spirits.

The bus had parked next to the back of some hangers and other buildings, opposite the terminal building where he and his Dad had arrived the evening before. His Dad, who had been sitting in the front seat with him, followed Jim off the bus and took a deep breath.

"Namaste," said Mr. Chawla

"Namaste, Alex replied. It looks like a great morning for a flight, Jim."

Great morning to be alive. I’m glad you brought me along, Dad. They followed their group to the back of the bus to pick up their duffel bags and then around the hangers. Is that how we’re getting to Lukla? Flying? Jim asked pointing to the parked airplanes just beyond the hangers.

We’re flying, but I’m not sure in what. Alex turned to his friend Dr. Robert Anderson. How are we getting to Lukla, Robb?

Helicopter, I think, Robb said. At least that’s what Bill Wright, our trek leader said last night at the orientation dinner.

We missed the orientation dinner. Got in too late, Alex replied. Our flight was delayed out of Delhi.

I think Bill told us the same thing this morning at breakfast, Robb said. He showed us a picture of one of the helicopters last night, but I wasn’t sure if that is how we’re scheduled or not.

I’m even more excited if it’s a helicopter, Jim said. It’ll be my first helicopter ride.

That should give us a nice view of the Himalayas, Alex said. The sun was just beginning to hit the tops of the mountains. On the ground it was still dark, but Jim could see the big sky beginning to brighten to the east over the terminal.

A giant bat zoomed over their heads heading back in the direction of their hotel.

Trying to make it back to his cave before daylight, Alex grumped.

Now there’s a bad sign, Robb said. He was huge.

"That is an ominous sight. I wonder how they get so big," Alex asked.

By eating twice their body weight in bugs each night like the small bats do, Robb replied.

If they do, I hope they will have eaten all the mosquitoes so we don’t have any on the trek, Jim said.

I think we will be high enough that it will be freezing at night. I don’t think mosquitoes last long in a frost, Robb said.

Jim could hear the faint chopping of rotors in the distance. The sky was steadily getting brighter. Within a few minutes the sky had turned a bright red-orange in the east even though the sun had not popped above the horizon. The sunlight was slowly inching its way down the mountains. Jim looked toward the noise and walked back and forth trying to make sure the rotor sounds weren’t a reflection off the buildings and to see if he could spot the helicopter. The rotor noise was getting stronger, even though he couldn’t see anything. Finally, he saw a speck against the snow-covered highest mountains in the world.

There it comes, Alex said, pointing over the terminal building.

The air was clear and crisp. There were only a few large fluffy clouds in the sky that were dark on the side closest to Jim and a brilliant red-orange on the side toward the sun, like they were on fire. There must not have been very much industry in Kathmandu to pollute the atmosphere, Jim thought; only the little hibachi fires that he saw on the way in from the airport last night that the Nepalese used to cook and probably to keep them warm at night. Kathmandu sat in a valley about fifty miles wide, Jim had read in his tour guide-book while flying in. The valley was rimmed on the north with the Himalayan mountains, the upper fifty miles of Nepal. He watched the mountains slowly illuminate even though it was still dusky on the ground where he was standing.

The southern fifty miles was jungle and Jim supposed that the jungle was still warm, not like here. That’s where the neighborly Bengal tigers roamed and ate an occasional unwary Nepalese citizen. Jim had read an article in Parade magazine, a month or so before the trek, that the people who logged out trees were at high risk, particularly when they sat down to eat lunch. But if they wore a headpiece with a fiercesome mask on the back of their head, the tigers wouldn’t attack since supposedly they only attack their prey from the rear. They apparently became confused by the two-faced Nepalese loggers. He wondered who had volunteered for the experiment to figure it out! He pulled his guide book out of the side pocket of his backpack and looked at a map. So Nepal was a long narrow country nestled in between China to the north and India to the south. And here he was!

The rotor noise continued to get louder and the silhouette of the helicopter grew steadily, but slowly larger. The trekking party lined up, more or less, so they could all see the helicopter. Otherwise, there wasn’t much to see except a spectacular sunrise and the awesome Himalayas! There was a large hangar off to the left about a hundred yards from where they were standing and another one right beside it. There were a couple helicopters parked inside the near hangar; must be for some other flights, Jim thought.

A little farther north, just beyond the front of the second hanger, were a cluster of small and medium-sized prop planes tied down, that looked like they could haul passengers or cargo. The closest one had low wings and had a canvas tied over the windshield to protect it. One airplane had a couple of people undoing the tie-downs and a person in front of it signaling the pilot. As soon as the tie-down people finished and ducked out from under the wings, one of its engines cranked a few times and began turning. After a short time, the other engine sputtered a few times and started turning, too. The airport was coming to life. The plane taxied over toward the terminal.

The morning sun had reached the top of the hangars just as the helicopter was descending toward the airport. Several members of the trekking party stirred around and began putting on their backpacks, but Jim and his Dad and Dr. Anderson just stood and admired the large white helicopter with its black nose and red stripes on the side, slowly descend toward them. It had flown over the end of the runway where a big white Air India passenger plane had just landed and was scooting down the runway. That was where Jim thought he and his Dad had probably landed the night before.

At about one hundred feet above the runway the helicopter leveled-off and slowly crept its way toward the large open area of tarmac in front of the hangars, right in front of them. The Air India plane turned off the runway and taxied away from them, toward the terminal. Jim heard a hissing sound, loud enough to be picked up above the staccato popping of the rotors. Then, there was a loud explosive bang, and a second explosion. Pieces flew off the top of the helicopter and smoke began coming from the engine. The helicopter lost altitude rapidly, plunging nose-down toward mother Earth, quickly. The rotor noise got noticeably louder and for a brief moment it looked like the helicopter slowed, leveled off and was hovering about twenty feet above the tarmac. Flames shot out of the engine as the engine started ablaze. With that the helicopter scooted forward and sank toward the tarmac. Everybody in the trekking party dived out of the way.

Jim sprinted away from the approaching helicopter, toward the front of the hangar. His Dad and Dr. Anderson quickly followed as the imperiled helicopter crashed about one hundred feet in front of the trekking party and about a hundred feet in front of the hangar. Jim looked back over his shoulder at the doomed helicopter, then stopped and turned and watched. The paired nose wheels hit first and broke off, immediately. The burning helicopter bounced up like a bucking bronco. The right rear wheels hit next and the helicopter spun counterclockwise on these wheels, away from the hanger and away from the trekkers, twisting off that set of wheels, dropping the helicopter onto the remaining set of wheels on the left back side. They quickly tore off as well and flipped the helicopter onto its right side.

Jim noticed several Nepalese men running out of the operations building from the corner of his eye. After a pause to assess the crash, a couple of them grabbed the portable fire extinguisher cart sitting next to the hangar and slowly rolled it passed Jim, toward the moving burning helicopter. The spinning rotors thrashed the tarmac like a runaway mixer, creating a kaleidoscope of sparks, like a chisel on a grinding wheel. The tips of the rotors broke off. The remaining spinning parts of the rotor chopped at the tarmac, snapped from the center hub and sparked as they flew across the asphalt tarmac in front of the helicopter and clobbered the portable fire extinguisher cart, breaking the legs and injuring the poor guys trying to help. If it hadn’t been for the fire extinguisher cart between them and the helicopter, Jim, Alex and Robb would have been clobbered, too.

The damaged helicopter bounced back onto its wheel-less bottom, spun around and bounced a couple of times before it finally vibrated to a stop, the black nose aimed at the operations building next to the closest hanger. The engine fire bloomed larger, a veritable gigantic candle. Jim could feel the heat and he turned and started to sprint into the hanger.

His Dad, however, turned around and immediately ran over to the two downed men and knelt down. Jim turned, too, and followed. The men were writhing in agony on the tarmac. It looked like the main injuries were to their legs. Alex grabbed a short piece of the broken helicopter rotor lying nearby, padded one end with his stocking cap and put it in the man’s crotch between his broken legs. Jim knelt down beside his Dad and held the splint and legs in place while Alex reached into his backpack and retrieved an ACE elastic bandage out of one of the side pockets. He quickly wrapped it around both legs and the piece of rotor, splinting the fractures. A couple Nepalese men were attending to the other man, so Alex and Jim turned their patient over to them. Jim could feel the heat of the blazing helicopter.

Three other Nepalese men grabbed a big fire hose off a real inside the hanger and began dragging it out toward the burning helicopter. Jim watched one of them run ahead and rip off the partially opened door on the side of the crushed helicopter and drop it on the tarmac. People in trekking gear with small backpacks began pushing their way out through the open doorway, stumbling over the broken-off door and other debris strewn in the way of their exit. They ran across the tarmac toward the shell-shocked, on-looking, awaiting trekkers.

Jim grabbed hold of the fire hose and began helping the Nepalese workers pull the hose toward the fire when they were really leaning forward, straining and it looked like they had slowed down considerably because of the weight of the ever lengthening hose and one less man to help pull it. His Dad and Robb Anderson reflexly did the same thing. The Nepalese men pulling the hose almost danced forward. One looked back to see whether the hose had come loose since the unexpected help had decreased their effort to pull the hose. The man near the burning aircraft shielded himself against the fire and ran back toward the origin of the hose in the hangar and began spinning the wheel to open the flow.

The hose filled, going from flat to a stuffed worm, instantaneously, as water began passing through it and dribble out the end through the nozzle. Within a few seconds it was at full blast and the recoil knocked both the Nepalese men to the ground. They let go of the hose and ran toward the hangar while the end of the hose started flopping back and forth like a wild snake, squirting water all over the tarmac, but none on the fire. Meanwhile the helicopter was nearly engulfed in flames while the final few people were still streaming out of the helicopter door opening yelling and screaming. The last couple of people’s clothes were on fire. They ran a little ways, fanning the flames until the other waiting trekkers forced them to the ground and rolled them over and over, extinguishing their burning clothing.

Alex grabbed the middle of the hose, wrapped his arms around it and worked his way up the loose, flopping hose toward the nozzle, controlling the waving hose. Jim and Robb grabbed the hose behind Alex and mimicked him, following hand over hand close behind. Eventually, Alex reached the nozzle, brought it under control and aimed a stream into the doorway of the helicopter, briefly and then at the flaming engine.

A bewildered, soaking wet man tripped as he tried to exit the slippery doorway and fell out of the doomed helicopter and skidded across the wet tarmac on his back. He rolled onto his stomach and lifted his head.

My son’s trapped in there, he cried out as he got up and staggered toward the trekkers pointing back at the burning helicopter.

Jim slipped around his Dad, briefly wetting his woolen gloves, stocking cap and scarf. He wrapped the wet scarf around his nose and darted around the debris and torn off door on the tarmac, toward the door opening of the fiery helicopter.

Jim, what the hell are you doing? Alex yelled, but the roar of the fire and the sound of the water drowned out his voice. Alex tried to knock Jim off his feet with the force of the water from the fire hose to prevent him from entering the holocaust, but he only managed to drop Jim to his knees and soak him completely. Jim quickly crawled through the door opening of the burning helicopter. Alex panicked. He didn’t know what to do so he continued to pour water into the door of the helicopter and intermittently on the burning engine, above. A few minutes later Jim emerged from the burning helicopter on his left hand and knees dragging a limp bloody youngster close to his chest with his other arm. He stood up as soon as he was well outside the helicopter, cradled the kid in his arms and bent over and quickly carried him away from the fire scene. The back of Jim’s coat was on fire. Alex flipped the nozzle to spray and doused Jim long enough to extinguish the fire, but not enough to knock him down again, and then flipped it back to stream and redirected the full stream onto the helicopter again. Jim hurried over to the trekking party his coat still steaming, dropped to his knees and began giving the youngster mouth-to-mouth resuscitation. Dr. Bill Wright also dropped to his knees beside Jim and checked the kid’s carotid pulse. He started chest compressions.

Within seconds there was another loud bang and the remains of the helicopter exploded, showering flaming parts in every direction, fortunately mostly away from the hangars and trekkers. Alex and Robb were both hit by the blast and fell, scooting backwards while the hose was again free and flopped back and forth, serendipitously extinguishing many of the small burning parts and spraying the trekkers and Jim. Alex crawled away on his hands and knees toward the hangers. Robb lay on the tarmac. Jim stopped his mouth-to-mouth, looked at Robb and then up at a tall dark-haired woman trekker who was standing right behind him. She motioned that she would take over and for him to leave. Jim jumped up, spit out some soot and ran over to Dr. Anderson, helped him stand up and walk away from the carnage. The tall dark-haired woman trekker dropped to her knees beside Bill and took over for Jim, breathing mouth-to-mouth for the youngster. The hose continued to spray aimlessly until Alex finally reached the hanger, turned it off and collapsed.

The youngster coughed and tried to sit up. Dr. Wright stopped compressions and checked the boy’s carotid pulse, again. The woman giving mouth-to-mouth leaned back on the heels of her hiking boots and wiped away the sooty spit the youngster had coughed into her mouth. The youngster began to cry. His helpless, but happy father looked on and wrapped a blanket closer around his shoulders.

I think you saved the kid, Jim, Bill Wright said as Jim walked Dr. Anderson back to the trekking party. The dark-haired woman stood up and pulled a blanket out of the top of her backpack and spread it out for Robb. Robb sat down on the blanket and pulled the corners up around his back and neck, shivering. Bill retrieved some dressings and a wooden splint from a red first aid box next to his pack and began dressing the youngster’s open fractured right arm.

Hi. I’m Charlotte Brown. I’m an ED Doc. Are you alright? she asked Robb.

Yeah, I’m fine. Just a little stunned, Robb said. How’s Jim. Jim had already run over to his Dad and helped him to his feet.

Jim’s fine, Bill said. Jim walked his Dad back to the trekking party.

Didn’t you get burned? Alex asked Jim, quietly.

Not that I know of. Maybe my eyelids, Jim said.

You scared the hell out of me when you ran into that burning helicopter.

I know, Dad, but what was I supposed to do. The kid was trapped and lifeless. I could hardly see through the thick smoke. Fortunately, you knocked me to my knees or I probably would have tried to enter that burning beast standing up, sucked in one breath and died. I had to lie down on my back on the floor and push the roof and motor up with my boots to pull him free. His arm was trapped. I ripped his coat sleeve off to get his broken arm free. Fortunately the only breath I took was near the floor and it didn’t kill me. It sure was smoky inside. I hope there wasn’t anyone else in there. I didn’t see anyone else.

"If there was, they’re dead after that last explosion. Almost got Robb and me," Alex said. The trekking party already had found blankets for Jim and Alex. They were both shivering from being wet and cold. Jim pulled off his wet stocking cap, gloves and scarf. Dr. Brown handed Jim her extra pair of gloves and her warm dry stocking cap. Jim and Alex each wrapped a blanket around themselves. Alex sat down next to Robb while Jim remained standing. Jim finally stopped shivering and his teeth stopped chattering, but he couldn’t stop shaking. Nerves, he thought! Dr. Brown wrapped another blanket around Jim.

You could have been killed, big ‘chief,’ Dr. Brown said.

Thanks, Jim replied with a smile.

I mean it, you could have been killed in that helicopter or trapped and burned up, said Dr. Brown.

Yeah, but I’m lucky.

You were quick thinking and also very brave. My name is Charley; Charley Brown. Where did you learn CPR?

As a pool lifeguard; Boy Scouts?

Well, you saved the young boy’s life, said Charley. Jim watched the father hugging his son, both now wrapped in separate blankets.

Yeah, thanks man. Jim just smiled at him and at Charley.

I guess there won’t be any flights to Lukla, today, Jim said.

I doubt it, Bill Wright replied.

2. Back to the Malla Hotel

Dr. Bill Wright’s trekking party was still sitting on the grass next to the tarmac under some trees at noon. Jim, Alex and Robb had changed into dry clothes from their duffle bags and Jim had wrapped himself up with a blanket and was lying next to his pack. He managed to snag some much needed sleep. He didn’t feel like conversation even though Charley Brown had dropped her pack down close to his and looked anxious to talk to him. He was exhausted. Most of the other members of the party had propped themselves up against their packs while they waited and had been dozing off and on, too. The sun reached its zenith directly overhead and warmed the air to a comfortable temperature. The removal equipment and clean-up crews had moved the wrecked helicopter over to the side of the second hanger and swept up all the debris. The only sounds, now, were the wind and an occasional jet landing on the main runway of the Kathmandu airport.

The operations people had dragged one of the big helicopters out of the nearest hanger onto the tarmac at least an hour ago and had been tinkering with it. Jim had dozed off again. The silence was finally broken by the roar of one of the big helicopter’s engines starting. The pilot did an engine run up, right in front of the trekking party. Jim awoke with a start.

We get you new plane, Mr. Chula said as he quickly walked up to Bill.

"So was that crashed helicopter, our helicopter to fly to Lukla?" Bill asked.

Yes, but we have new helicopter for you, Mr. Chawla said.

Is that helicopter in front of us the one? Alex asked.

No. Next helicopter you’re helicopter, Mr. Chawla said. There was still another helicopter in the hanger, but it sure didn’t look like anyone was very interested in getting it ready. Another trekking party that had been at the airport, sitting on the grass next to the tarmac almost as long as the Wright party, stood up and began filing on-board the rumbling helicopter.

So much for that good idea, Jim said. This leaves us one good helicopter in the hangar.

That is not your helicopter, Mr. Chawla said. Yours fly in very soon. He turned and walked back to the operations building, as though he was going to check. Not likely, Jim thought. No other helicopters had flown out of the airport during the morning after the crash, and none had flown in. A few fixed wing planes had loaded trekkers from some of the parties that were waiting alongside the tarmac from time to time and flew off in the direction of Lukla. Jim doubted that there was another helicopter flying in from Lukla, today unless the helicopter that was leaving was going to fly some roundtrips in the afternoon. He looked up toward where Lukla should have been by his map. Nothing. The sun was shining brightly in between fluffy white clouds. His tour guide book had said that the airplanes seldom flew after ten-thirty in the morning because of the up-draft winds that bounced off the face of the Himalayas. It was already early afternoon. Jim leaned back on his pack and stared at Charley through his sunglasses as she stood up and brushed the grass off her seat. She was much taller than he remembered from his brief encounter with her earlier that morning. In fact, she looked at least six-foot tall. Her long dark brown hair scooted out from under her new colorful stocking cap and went nearly to her waist. She had peeled off some of her clothing as the temperature rose. Without her ski coat, Jim could see her well proportioned figure, including her nicely formed butt under the tight black ski pants. Her fur covered hiking boots probably gave her an extra two inches of height and shaped her posture so her posterior figure accented all her good curves. Even without the boots, she was probably still over six feet tall. She turned and gave Jim a pretty smile.

Are you awake, hero? she said.

I am, but I’m not a hero, Jim said.

You sure saved the day. Jim stood up as she took a few steps over toward him. She was a little taller than he was, in her boots.

D’ya think we’ll ever get to Lukla? Jim asked. Charley looked at her watch.

I doubt it, she said. It would be pretty late in the afternoon by the time we got there to start trekking. We wouldn’t get very far before we had to camp.

I would like to at least get to Lukla before dark. We could probably stay in one of the trekker’s inns or sleep in a tent in Lukla. Then we wouldn’t have to go through this evolution tomorrow morning again. We could just start the trek. Mr. Chawla emerged from the operations building and walked over to Dr. Bill Wright.

You go to Lukla tomorrow morning, he said loud enough so the whole Wright party could hear. Bus come to take you back to Malla Hotel. Reluctantly, everybody in the Wright party stood up and pulled on their small backpacks. They grabbed their duffel bags as Mr. Chawla led them out past the operations building around the hanger to the place where they had disembarked early that morning just as the same old rickety bus from the Malla Hotel that had brought them, pulled up. Jim hung back with Charley behind his Dad and Dr. Anderson and boarded the bus, last. He and Charley sat in the front seat of the bus, right in front of his Dad and Robb Anderson. Mr. Chawla boarded the bus and closed the door and stood in front in the stairwell. A few minutes later, the bus pulled out of the airport area and headed back toward the hotel. It was just as bumpy and noisy and hot going back to the hotel as it was getting to the airport!

You said you were an ER doc? Jim said.

"I am an Emergency Department physician. I finished my residency and started working in a small hospital in the White Mountains in New Hampshire this July. That way I can hike most of the summer and ski most of the winter. What do you do?"

Nothing . . . right now. I was a lifeguard this summer in San Diego and I’m probably going to go to law school next fall. I just graduated from UCSD in June on Father’s Day.

So how did you hook up with this group?

Dr. Anderson talked my Dad into coming with him on the trek and Dad invited me to come along. He and Dad were visiting professors at the Australasian Burn Conference in Freemantle, Australia and taught the first Advanced Burn Life Support instructor course in Perth. I tagged along there, too. Then we flew to Delhi for the International Society for Burn Injuries meeting.

Nice Dad. Is he a burn surgeon?

Burns and trauma.

So he was in his element this morning?

"I don’t think he likes . . . to be in the crash. He just likes to take care of people who crash! Jim glanced out the window. The tall trees on the side of the road had large dark masses hanging from the upper limbs. Strange fruit, he thought. He stared at them for a while and then said, Giant bats." Charley leaned across Jim who was sitting next to the window, to get a better angle to see them. They watched as periodically, one bat would spread its huge wings and reposition him or herself upside down in the tree, hanging from a branch. Then all was quiet for a while until another bat would do the same. The bus was moving slowly in traffic. The constant noise from the honking vehicles and the bike bells didn’t seem to disturb the bats or maybe it did.

They must be two feet long, said Charley. Alex, who was sitting next to the window in the seat right behind Jim and Charley, looked up at the bats.

A physiologist from the University of Washington use to say that the bat was phyologenetically closer to man than the ape, Alex told Robb. "He must have been looking at these bats, not the little laboratory bats that we used to use." Jim turned around and looked at his Dad.

That was a ten dollar word, Dad! Jim said. Does that mean I’m more like Batman than Tarzan?

I guess you’re right, Jim! replied Dr. Icarus. Jim turned around to face forward and tried to look at the bats, again, around Charley’s head. The giant bats made him feel like he was in Jurassic Park. Charley was in Jim’s lap looking up. They watched until the bus turned onto the street leading to the hotel. Charley took her elbow out of his right thigh and sat up straight in her seat.

I guess this is where that giant bat was headed this morning, Jim said.

I didn’t see it, said Charley. The bus pulled into the circle drive in front of Malla Hotel. Dr. Bill Wright who was sitting in the left front seat behind the driver stood up and moved to the front of the bus beside Mr. Chawla, before the bus stopped rolling. He was right in front of Jim and Charley. He looked down at them as he spoke and then at all the people on the bus.

As soon as you get to your rooms, clean up and shower if you want. Catch a nap. Mr. Chawla has arranged a cocktail hour in the lounge right off the main dining room, compliments of the Mountain Travel trekking company. Then we’ll have dinner in the main dining room, again compliments of the Mountain Travel people. Thank you, Mr. Chawla. He reserved rooms in your name, actually the same rooms that you were in last night.

How could he do that if he didn’t already know we weren’t going to be able to get to Lukla today? Alex asked. "This is the height of trekking season

I have no idea, Charley answered.

Now, I don’t know if that was our helicopter that crashed or whether we just didn’t have a flight to Lukla, today at all, Alex said. I almost hope that we didn’t have a flight to Lukla. That would be better luck, I think. Dr. Wright and Mr. Chawla got off the bus followed by Mrs. Wright and then Charley and Jim. Alex and Robb soon followed. They waited until their duffel bags were unloaded from the back of the bus, grabbed their own and headed into the Malla Hotel.

See you at the cocktail hour, Jim, Charley said. "You are coming, aren’t you?"

Wouldn’t miss it. Dad and I didn’t get a chance to meet all the people in our trekking party last night. We got in too late from Delhi. And there was too much action or inaction, today at the airport! I’m looking forward to seeing everybody. I’ll talk to you later.

You slept most of the time after you saved that youngster. Guess you were exhausted, she said.

I didn’t show many social skills, did I? Charley smiled, turned and walked up to the reservation desk. Jim joined his Dad who already had keys to their room.

What was that all about, Jim? Alex asked.

She’s an Emergency Department Doc up in the White Mountains. She skis in the winter and hikes in the summer. That’s about all I know about her, so far.

Be careful, Jim. She’s very pretty. They headed for their room.

3. Cocktails and Conversation

Jim grabbed a couple of beers from the bartender and handed one to his Dad. Maybe this will give us a chance to meet our trek leader and the other people we missed last night and today. I would like to know who we’re going to be trekking with the next couple weeks, Jim said.

"We were a little busy this morning and then I was totally fatigued, Alex said. I fell asleep, so I didn’t talk to anybody, but Robb and Bill Wright. I guess you already know another one of these people," he kidded Jim.

Jim smiled. They found Dr. Robb Anderson.

Robb, tell me a little bit more about Bill Wright, Alex inquired. I didn’t have much time to talk to him today, or anyone else for that matter. Jim listened in.

Bill Wright was the Chairman of the Medicine Department at the University of Connecticut, Robb started. He is a famous, internationally known pulmonologist. He retired July first before the start of the new academic year, but stayed on for a few months to break in his successor. You know that ‘dance.’

Yeah, I’ve experienced that same evolution in the Surgery Department, Alex said.

"He told me that his mind was not on how well his successor was going to do. He knew his successor would do fine. As you know, the medicine faculty sees to that. In fact, as you might suspect, it was the usual contest between his successor’s autonomy and leadership style versus the current medical faculty’s culture and who would win or whether they would meld. What Bill was asked to do was ‘referee,’ I think. But