SHAMATTAWA

Not many men left as pilots, this one is obviously trying to impress me.  Extra steep dive, even more than the usual super-steep dive of a Twin Otter.  My stomach drops, as it always does on dives in the two-engine relics.  Good job I'm not hungover.
He lands on the strip at Shamattawa, northern Manitoba, Canada, temperature -55.  Helps me offload.  I watch the takeoff, hotdogging, he's skimming the treetops as the end of the runway.  Maybe he's never heard the old saying, "there are old pilots, bold pilots, but no old bold pilots."
Otter, you ask, surely those were scrapped centuries ago?  No, eminently practical, about the best thing for remote flying in the Canadian north, with short runways and unreliable weather.
Shamattawa, you ask, that was abandoned centuries ago?  Big scandal, high murder rate, they urbanized those natives.  Exactly why I am here, to be alone.
Why?  Final exam for the Special Air Service, 2 weeks here alone.
Got an insulated tent, so small my body heat can keep it warm.  Eiderdown sleeping bag, very pricy nowadays, only rich mountaineers buy them.  Arctic rations of 6,000 calories per day.  Blaster, in case of wolves.  Radio in case I get sick or jam out early.  Think I'll quit now?  Not on your life.  Hard to get into the SAS, ain't quitting now.