There was so much to be done. Days had gone by, five in all, and still the weather wouldn't let up. Day after day we headed for the airport; thirteen people had been trying to get to Makkovik for Christmas and finally here it was December 23rd and still no luck. The once cheerful friends and family were grim and strolling through the airport with smileless faces. Tonight was the night we decorated. In the last few days while waiting to get home we had missed the school Christmas concert, a lot of the house cleaning, the hanging of lights, the baking and the joy of the preparations which made Christmas, Christmas. At seven a.m. we had met at the airport and here it was noon - still we were holding for weather. Every once in a while someone walked over the payphone and called home to get the latest forecast. The report, however negative, spread quickly through the crowd.

Then, without warning, at two o'clock, the agent announced the departure of flight 201 to Makkovik. The bustle of people putting on their warm outer gear, grabbing colorful packages and heading for the departure gate built a new excitement throughout the group. "We're gonna try it" the pilot announced, "but we're not making any promises." "Oh God, please" I thought " we have to get home now."

The entire flight left everyone on nerve but we felt safe, after all, Mike was flying and he was the best. Curious adults peered through the windows of the aircraft straining to recognize some familiar land through the snowstorm. To get too excited now about actually landing was almost too much to bear, after all, we had come this close several days ago and ended up back in Goose Bay. In moments the aircraft plunged downward through a hole below the bad weather...land...we weren't far from home! With blustering snow and vicious winds the plane roared just above the hill tops. It was the first time I had ever flown around that hill and into the harbour...but, my God..we could see houses through the storm. The pilot prepared for the final approach. The plane rocked and the engines jeered. As the plane descended, suddenly and without warning, the aircraft began to vibrate as the engines roared louder than I had ever heard before. The pilot turned the planed on a dime. Some passengers screamed out and others held their breath as we continued to descend. Throughout of all of this the plane continued to be tossed around like a cork on an open sea. Oh God, please . . . please make this plane land safely. With thirteen people from the small village of Makkovik, we had to land safely, we just had to.

As the engines strained, the aircraft descended at a phenomenal rate. The wings rocked back and forth, it seemed, uncontrollably. I gripped the seat in front of me and hung my head desperately trying to block out the noise, the engines, the screams, the storm. Finally it happened. The wheels of the aircraft touched down on the runaway. We bounced high into the air then came back down on the runway again. As all three wheels touched down, the passengers broke into shouts of joy and began clapping. We had made it! The aircraft slowly taxied to the terminal and we could see a huge crowd gathered in front of the building. It seemed half the community had come to meet us.