They have a new airport and a paved runway at Chinle now. Not so when I flew there. Mud, thick, red mud. The kids used to sit at the end of the runway and shoot us when we flew over. Something different than shooting the dog packs.
Personally, I think it's a pretty landscape.
The runway at Chinle used to be 60 watt lightbulbs in expanded metal cages, and the locals would steal the bulbs for home use. Horses on the runway was common. Then again, down on the San Carlos res, we had to chase the locals off the runway in the morning and evening before we could land. And we had to clean out the airplanes after every flight, every stitch of gear, because it would walk off at a slow run.
I stood next to one of those cars as it burned, glanced down at my feet, at a stream of melted auto running downhill, and surveyed the interior. No bodies. Or nothing apparent, anyway. They tend to char on the outside, and keep their form, like badly cooked meat...not the clean crematorium ashes that they tell you is uncle charlie (and really isn't). Nobody there.
I got to thinking about all the times I've pulled off on one of those little dirt roads to rest for an hour or two, and then got to picturing someone stealing the gas before breaking the window and dropping in a molative cocktail. There are better ways to wake up in the middle of nowhere.
Personally, I think it's a pretty landscape.
The runway at Chinle used to be 60 watt lightbulbs in expanded metal cages, and the locals would steal the bulbs for home use. Horses on the runway was common. Then again, down on the San Carlos res, we had to chase the locals off the runway in the morning and evening before we could land. And we had to clean out the airplanes after every flight, every stitch of gear, because it would walk off at a slow run.
I stood next to one of those cars as it burned, glanced down at my feet, at a stream of melted auto running downhill, and surveyed the interior. No bodies. Or nothing apparent, anyway. They tend to char on the outside, and keep their form, like badly cooked meat...not the clean crematorium ashes that they tell you is uncle charlie (and really isn't). Nobody there.
I got to thinking about all the times I've pulled off on one of those little dirt roads to rest for an hour or two, and then got to picturing someone stealing the gas before breaking the window and dropping in a molative cocktail. There are better ways to wake up in the middle of nowhere.
A company like EAM should really know better than to pull stuff like that.
