I was hungry, having not eaten much since the quick excursion to Wreck Beach before heading to Vancouver Airport to catch my flight southward. Hungry I was, until I took a few bites. A seagull stared down at my plate of halibut, fries and salad, and eyed my cup of clam chowder. A sea breeze blew in the scent of fish and salt.
My mind wandered, away from the hustle of the Seattle seaside boardwalk in the light of the dying day, past the emptying Pike Market, and back to the street corner where I first saw the lady. I only passed her by briefly, yet something made me turn around to take
another look as my footsteps carried me further.
Beneath the soiled, ragged clothes and a blanket she had wrapped around her to fend off the gathering evening chill, was a face of sorrow, a face of agony. It pained me in that fleeting moment as my eyes darted across her face. She leaned over a bench, on which her plastic bags of precious belongings cluttered. She held her hand to her face, her forehead and cheeks contorted into a powerful expression of human suffering right before my eyes. The rush-hour traffic was dying. Passerbys walked on by.
I too walked on by, yet the haunting image of the homeless lady lingered as I took another bite. The food I was looking forward to which came so highly recommended in the guidebook suddenly tasted so bland. The dusking sun suddenly seemed so dull. Only the moon, its face bright and pocketed, glowed in reminder of a face I came across not so long ago.
The seagull still stared at my half-finished plate of food. I got up and asked for a container, and quickly marched back toward where I first met her. The food steamed beneath the transparent lid, yet more and more it lost its appeal. My appetite was somehow already fulfilled.
I laid down the plate on the bench, and walked on by.
06 August 2009
05 August 2009
Pilgrimage to Paine Field
There is a reason why Seattle is alternatively known as the “Jet City”. Though the Boeing Company’s headquarters is now located elsewhere, this is still the region in which William Boeing first realised his dream of building a better aircraft to serve humanity. And indeed, some seven decades after the maiden flight of Boeing’s first flimsy linen and wooden seaplane, the company that bears his name continues to be a, if not the, jetsetter in aviation.
It was at the Everett Factory that the first jumbo 747-100 rolled off of the production line, down the runway at Paine Field, and soared into the skies. For decades, thousands more jumbos took to the heavens, bridged far away continents and shortened distances between people and places. Indeed, as the introductory film on the Future of Flight tour reminds us, compared to a 14 month epic voyage across the seas from London to Vancouver in the 17th Century, modern aviation is saving us both much precious time and money.
The Everett plant began operations in the late 1960s, and has today expanded to become (what is claimed to be) the biggest building on Earth by volume. It was said that due to the immense size of the building, together with the heat generated by the million or so light bulbs, clouds actually formed near the ceiling and that it would sometimes rain down on the thousands of workers below. Modern air-circulation systems prevented all that, and with the expansion of the plant came 26 overhead cranes capable of carrying up to 40 tonnes, and close to 4km of underground tunnels beneath the factory floor, the walls of which are lined with many more kilometres of piping and wiring.
All this is necessary to keep the production of Boeing’s twin isle wide-body jets going 24hrs a day. The mighty 747 may have today been overtaken by its European rival, yet Boeing’s innovative technologies, such as better fuel efficiency and quieter engine output, coupled with passenger comfort-oriented features, like ambiance lighting and bigger windows, have become integrated into Boeing’s latest products. The 747-8, with its swept back wings and composite alloys is nicknamed the Intercontinental, and will have the range to bridge city-pairs as far apart as London and Sydney or New York and Tokyo. Next to the reinvented jumbo is the world’s record-holding long-haul jet, the 777, which in 2007 flew non-stop for 21 hours from London westward to Hong Kong. Also my favourite plane at the moment, the Triple Seven is also the record holder for the passenger jet with the largest and most powerful engines, the GE90 Turbofan. And no future can be without dreams, hence Boeing’s 787 Dreamliner, with its much reduced noise and fuel emission levels, light weight and streamlined shape, is (said to) set to revolutionalise plane travel in the coming decades.
I gazed in awe at the immensity of the assembly plant, and began to feel so small. Spread all over below were machinery of all shapes and sizes, as cranes inched overhead on the ceiling. There were hundreds of cabinets containing precision instruments and tools, as well as rows and rows of computer terminals and stress engineers hunched over vigorously testing, and retesting specifications. For a plane to be put together, first the wings are meticulously put together, then sections of the fuselage, and towards the end, the wings, fin, wings and body of the aircraft is pieced together like a snap-fit model plane. At this stage, the fuselage looks green, the colour due to a layer of protective vinyl sprayed on to protect the metal from scratches and bumps during the assembly process. Meanwhile, as all the assembling of the exterior of the aircraft is taking place, seats (or cargo compartment if it’s a freighter), wiring, computers, and some 6 million or so bits and pieces of bolts and components are placed inside the plane. All this can be complete within 3 days, and it takes another 5 days for the entire plane to be spray painted to the customer’s custom logo and design.
I stood there for a while, breathed in the slight scent of welding, listened to the cacophony of drilling and hammering, and watched the (wo)men rush, sometimes on bikes or even golf carts, back and fro like busy ants below. In one corner of the 777 assembly line was a plane with the distinct orange and green fin of Eva Air, while two other 777s carried the unmistakable red dot of JAL. On another side of the hangar, the world’s first 787 to be placed in commercial service—which will soon enough bear the blue and white livery of All Nippon Airways— seemed to glisten and outshine the rest.
“All Asian airliners,” a local visitor muttered, “What happened to American carriers?” Deregulation, and years of heavy indebtedness, cutthroat and destructive competition, overcapacity, downward price pressures, and, at times, poor management sprung to my mind.
No cameras were allowed on the tour on-site, but I have seen part of the secret behind Boeing’s success, watched first-hand the stringent yet efficient production process unfold before my own eyes. I even gave Boeing back part of my scholarship money in exchange for scale models, T-Shirts and fridge magnets of my sponsor’s latest aircrafts. On the panorama deck I looked out onto Paine Field. A row of finished 777s stood on the tarmac waiting to be delivered. The last 747-400 ever produced hid in one corner, while two 787s stood still close to the runway, their lights blinking as if impatient waiting for the next test flight. In the distance, the gigantic hangar doors of the world’s largest plane assembly plant were closed tightly.
The runway was deserted, for now. But this very plant, these very paved tarmacs, and down this very skid-marked runway, planes will hurtle, rise and soar into the skies on their maiden flights.
It was at the Everett Factory that the first jumbo 747-100 rolled off of the production line, down the runway at Paine Field, and soared into the skies. For decades, thousands more jumbos took to the heavens, bridged far away continents and shortened distances between people and places. Indeed, as the introductory film on the Future of Flight tour reminds us, compared to a 14 month epic voyage across the seas from London to Vancouver in the 17th Century, modern aviation is saving us both much precious time and money.
The Everett plant began operations in the late 1960s, and has today expanded to become (what is claimed to be) the biggest building on Earth by volume. It was said that due to the immense size of the building, together with the heat generated by the million or so light bulbs, clouds actually formed near the ceiling and that it would sometimes rain down on the thousands of workers below. Modern air-circulation systems prevented all that, and with the expansion of the plant came 26 overhead cranes capable of carrying up to 40 tonnes, and close to 4km of underground tunnels beneath the factory floor, the walls of which are lined with many more kilometres of piping and wiring.
All this is necessary to keep the production of Boeing’s twin isle wide-body jets going 24hrs a day. The mighty 747 may have today been overtaken by its European rival, yet Boeing’s innovative technologies, such as better fuel efficiency and quieter engine output, coupled with passenger comfort-oriented features, like ambiance lighting and bigger windows, have become integrated into Boeing’s latest products. The 747-8, with its swept back wings and composite alloys is nicknamed the Intercontinental, and will have the range to bridge city-pairs as far apart as London and Sydney or New York and Tokyo. Next to the reinvented jumbo is the world’s record-holding long-haul jet, the 777, which in 2007 flew non-stop for 21 hours from London westward to Hong Kong. Also my favourite plane at the moment, the Triple Seven is also the record holder for the passenger jet with the largest and most powerful engines, the GE90 Turbofan. And no future can be without dreams, hence Boeing’s 787 Dreamliner, with its much reduced noise and fuel emission levels, light weight and streamlined shape, is (said to) set to revolutionalise plane travel in the coming decades.
I gazed in awe at the immensity of the assembly plant, and began to feel so small. Spread all over below were machinery of all shapes and sizes, as cranes inched overhead on the ceiling. There were hundreds of cabinets containing precision instruments and tools, as well as rows and rows of computer terminals and stress engineers hunched over vigorously testing, and retesting specifications. For a plane to be put together, first the wings are meticulously put together, then sections of the fuselage, and towards the end, the wings, fin, wings and body of the aircraft is pieced together like a snap-fit model plane. At this stage, the fuselage looks green, the colour due to a layer of protective vinyl sprayed on to protect the metal from scratches and bumps during the assembly process. Meanwhile, as all the assembling of the exterior of the aircraft is taking place, seats (or cargo compartment if it’s a freighter), wiring, computers, and some 6 million or so bits and pieces of bolts and components are placed inside the plane. All this can be complete within 3 days, and it takes another 5 days for the entire plane to be spray painted to the customer’s custom logo and design.
I stood there for a while, breathed in the slight scent of welding, listened to the cacophony of drilling and hammering, and watched the (wo)men rush, sometimes on bikes or even golf carts, back and fro like busy ants below. In one corner of the 777 assembly line was a plane with the distinct orange and green fin of Eva Air, while two other 777s carried the unmistakable red dot of JAL. On another side of the hangar, the world’s first 787 to be placed in commercial service—which will soon enough bear the blue and white livery of All Nippon Airways— seemed to glisten and outshine the rest.
“All Asian airliners,” a local visitor muttered, “What happened to American carriers?” Deregulation, and years of heavy indebtedness, cutthroat and destructive competition, overcapacity, downward price pressures, and, at times, poor management sprung to my mind.
No cameras were allowed on the tour on-site, but I have seen part of the secret behind Boeing’s success, watched first-hand the stringent yet efficient production process unfold before my own eyes. I even gave Boeing back part of my scholarship money in exchange for scale models, T-Shirts and fridge magnets of my sponsor’s latest aircrafts. On the panorama deck I looked out onto Paine Field. A row of finished 777s stood on the tarmac waiting to be delivered. The last 747-400 ever produced hid in one corner, while two 787s stood still close to the runway, their lights blinking as if impatient waiting for the next test flight. In the distance, the gigantic hangar doors of the world’s largest plane assembly plant were closed tightly.
The runway was deserted, for now. But this very plant, these very paved tarmacs, and down this very skid-marked runway, planes will hurtle, rise and soar into the skies on their maiden flights.
04 August 2009
Wild Pacific
Perched on the top of a tree, it looked down at the bay below. A pair of powerful talons gripped tightly onto a leafy branch, as its white feathery head turned and scanned the surrounding world. I inched closer, so close I could see the combed feathers of the mighty bird's coat, yet the eagle did not stir. Perhaps this traveller in a bright blue hoodie was not interesting enough.
Shrouded in mystery, veiled in mist, the light morning breeze was dense with dew. Water and the air merged into one, a curtain of gray that stretched into the distance and consumed the space all around. Surrounded by the faint figures of evergreens that swayed in the wind in the distance, and the low rumbling of a boat engine, there was a strangely attractive feeling of wild desertion.
Desolate and deserted nature may be, yet in the midst of it all, surrounded by the sounds, smells and emotions evoked, was often an unspoken sense of romance and liberation. A feeling that I, save for the clothes that I bore and the camera that I carried, have returned home to the wilderness from which we all came.
On the brochures that had originally lured me to the isolated little town of Ucluelet were breathtaking scenes of majestic mountains and green forests mirrored on tranquil water. Instead, for two days it seemed as if I had suddenly left the scorching summer heat of downtown Vancouver and been transported into the dead of a damp, blistery winter. Yet beauty, and especially the unblemished and raw kind, outs itself in different ways in different temperatures, and does not necessary need the sun to accentuate it.
Originally I had planned this stay in the far-flung western coast of Vancouver Island for myself, but seeing that my cousin had just moved to Canada, I thought it might be helpful for him to get to know and understand this country by seeing more of it. So at the very last minute I took him along. Together we packed lightly and set off, unsure really what to expect. But two days of hiking and biking brought us closer to nature. And closer together too.
Parts of the trail were dark and broody. Jagged and untamed rocks spread pierced out of the water. Waves ebbed and flowed into estuaries, and lingeringly twirled around in whirlpools. Lost driftwood, and at times even more lost bottles, struggled to keep their heads above the immense volume of water all around them. Other parts were green, and alive with vegetation and slugs that languished over the pathway beneath the footsteps of infrequent hikers. At times wild deer would graze on the roadside, then shyly step away to make way for the human intruders. Numerous signs adorn the pathwath that warn people to be wary of big hungry grizzlies, who
like to scavenge of leftovers.
Vancouver bound
(on board AC 111)
On board and around an hour away from
Hopefully this trip, to cities and on paths never before travelled, will help me rediscover how resourceful I can be. It is always good to go somewhere you’ve never been, and find your way there.
Like finding your way in the trip of life.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)