The very smartly dressed flight attendant drinks tea by the edge of the runway with the pilot while they unload cargo from the small airplane. As the motors rev up I look at the badly worn leather seats and wonder how or if they maintain these planes and how or if I will ever see my bags of climbing gear again ever. She hands out cotton for the ears and tiny ginger candy, and with a deafening roar we race down the unbelievably short runway that slants down at about 30 degrees and then just disappears off a cliff.
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