After showing us the towering surf at the North Shore on the island of Oahu in the state of Hawaii, the pilot of the blue helicopter turned the craft around. We were now flying over a verdant valley that would take us through a mountain range toward Pearl Harbor.
To be honest, I was a bit nervous, given that my first and only experience in a chopper had been on the garden isle of Kauai. That craft had been flown by a pilot who had served in Vietnam. We had been seated in the back row. A young couple in the front row, visitors from Germany, perhaps on their honeymoon had experienced air sickness. The husband had emptied the contents of his stomach in a bag.
This time we were in the front row. There was no choice. We had been assigned the seating based on our height and weight. The craft had taken off very smoothly and I had said to myself, this is not as bad as I was thinking it might be. Until the chopper came over the ocean and I saw the towering waves shrink in size and the sailboats become tiny dots on the surface.
We then flew past the skyline of Waikiki Beach and were now headed toward its iconic climax known as Diamond Head. Using the mic which each of the six passengers had been provided, I asked the pilot about our elevation. She said we were at a thousand feet and were climbing to thirteen hundred feet. Somehow it felt a lot higher. Maybe it was the way the craft was shaking in the wind, a little bubble of glass surrounded by infinity of air.
She showed us Diamond Head from one side and then made a dramatic turn to show us the other side, giving me a mild vertiginous attack. To signal my concern, I asked the woman pilot if she was ex-military. She said that indeed she had learned to fly in the army. Then came the quip: “Riding in a helicopter is akin to riding in a roller coaster without rails.” That was not reassuring since I don’t even ride on rollercoasters with rails but did not want to disclose that weakness of mine to her.
The 761-ft peak looked so different from the air as compare to when it was viewed from the ground. In a few seconds, we were flying past that beach where the final scene of the movie From Here to Eternity was shot. Then we shot over to Hanauma Bay, a popular snorkelling spot whose waters are crystal clear and then to Rabbit Island. As the craft turned, a large sand bar swung into view. Surrounded by the bluest of waters, its yellow hues gave it a surreal appearance which was accentuated by a large yacht that was resting on it.
Now we were in the valley where Jurassic Park was filmed. It also gave us a glimpse of the island’s 'secret' waterfall. After that, we flew toward the north shore. The pilot showed us three dome-shaped radar installations on the north side of the island. She said they had picked up the incoming Japanese Zero fighters early on the morning of the 7th of December, 1941. Unfortunately, the radar operators mistook them for friendly aircraft.
I asked the woman pilot if she was ex-military. She said that indeed she had learned to fly in the army. Then came the quip: “Riding in a helicopter is akin to riding in a roller coaster without rails”
I thought his was a good time to tell her about our trip to Japan last October and the chat we had with a man who sold samurai swords in the imperial capital of Kyoto. His comment about the death and destruction that had taken place at Hiroshima was transfixed in my mind. With not a shred of emotion, the pilot responded: “But he must have known that Pearl Harbor came before Hiroshima.”
In a few minutes, we had crossed the pass through the mountain range. A reserve fleet of naval ships swung into view. We went right over them as they lay anchored, silent sentinels of the waters of the Pacific. And then the long awaited moment came as we saw the memorial over the USS Arizona.
We had toured the memorial back on our first visit to Oahu in 1992. It is small and austere, and looked even smaller from several hundred feet up in the sky. It was still leaking oil, the pilot told us. The long stain is not visible from the memorial but very noticeable from the sky. I wondered why they had not found a way to plug the leak. Or was this a subtle way of memorialising history?
But the really new development for us was the placement of the storied USS Missouri, bearing the pennant number 63, directly across from the memorial. The nine 16-inch guns were hard to miss. In Tokyo Bay, there was no marker to tell us where the battleship was anchored when the Japanese high command surrendered to General Douglas MacArthur.
And then she flew the chopper back toward Honolulu airport. As we came into land, we went past some of the big jets that fly people in from all over the world to the magical island of Oahu. The landing was smooth as silk. We just had to keep our head down as we came out to avoid touching the big blades that were right over us.