We were midway across the Kauai Channel cruising at 8,500 feet in clear blue skies. Below us the Pacific Ocean was a deep blue carpet extending to the horizon in all directions. Suddenly, through my headset I heard a voice I recognized calling Honolulu Center (HCF) :
"HCF this is American 162, do you have a Piper Cherokee two six Mike on this frequency?"
"Yes, yes I do"
"Any chance I could talk with him for a minute?" Asked the voice on a frequency every pilot throughout the Pacific would be hearing.
"Sure American 162, go ahead."
"Captain 26Mike you there?"
"Hey, Captain American. What's up man?" I responded
"Aloha Brian, hey, I'm really sorry about Phil's death. Give Scott's Mom a hug and say aloha to his Dad for me".
"Will do Curt... fly safe, thanks buddy, aloha, captain 26Mike out."
"Aloha to you my friend, fly safe...Captain American out."
The man on the other end of the radio is the captain of a Boeing 767 full of tourists heading back to Los Angelos. How he found me flying my little plane over the Pacific I don't know. Such is a man who was also a friend of Scott Bickel's and mine many years ago in the wild days of Kona Hawaii. Back then he was a private pilot with little more than a hundred hours of flight time and peach fuzz for a mustache . Now he is a senior captain with America's premier airline and holder of more than twenty thousand hours of flight time. And yet he can find a way to look down from his high perch flying a jumbo jet from Honolulu to Los Angeles to find me and pass on his aloha to our friend Scott's mom. You're a hell of a guy Curt.
I chose to fly myself from Kona to Kauai for the funeral of Phil Bickel, the father of my best friend in my earlier years. Phil was the father of Scott who picked me up hitchhiking on Alii Drive in 1975 and subsequently changed the entire course of my life. In 1983 I helped Scott finish building a trimaran on a river in Connecticut. His plan was to sail it back to Hawaii. Together we sailed throughout the Bahamas before I had to return to California. The following year he died on his boat in hurricane Hugo in the Virgin Islands. Scott was to be the best man at my wedding the following June. His father Phil stood in for his son and was the best man at my wedding in 1990. Phil died last week after undergoing surgery for stomach cancer.
Each year on the anniversary of Scott's death we would meet at Jamiesons restaurant to have dinner at sunset just above the ocean where Scott had spent so many good times and where we had buried him in 1989. The last time Leilani was home and joined us. Here you see us and Pat and Phil on their very last trip to the Big Island where they had lived so many happy years on the slopes of Hualalai.
I had an old friend of Pat and Phil's from Hilo flying with me to Lihue to attend Phil's funeral. After crossing the channel between Oahu and Kauai we dropped from the azure sky and landed safely on the runway at Lihue airport, two and a half hours and two hundred and forty miles of open ocean flying behind us. We tied 26Mike down and headed to the church where the service would be held.
I had the pleasure of being able to sit and talk with Pat for a bit before the service began. Sitting in a quite room off of the church I held her hand and we talked about Phil, and Scott and how life can sure throw you a crappy hand when you least expect it. There were laughs and tears as we looked back on my friend, his father and her love. Pat Bickel is an incredibly strong and gracious lady. Phil was a lucky man and he knew it.
The service was wonderful with family and friends passing on their anecdotes and tales of Phil's life. He was an Eagle Scout, a Naval officer, a father and husband and so very much more. I only got to know Phil after his son's death, but I came to regard him as a very special friend. He was an incredibly good man and I will miss him. His ever present smile and wry sense of humor made me feel at home when I was with him.
Like my Dad who I miss all the time, Phil will be missed dearly by his kids, grandkids, me and of course Pat.
After the service there was a reception at their oldest daughters house. The view of the mountains behind their house is stunning.
We ate and drank and told funny stories of Phil and Pat. I shared some tales of when Scott and I were wild young men living in an animal house called the Kalawai house with a bunch of other crazy Haoles in the mid 1970's. It was a very enjoyable evening, a celebration of lives.
Six years ago I had the privilege of photographing the wedding of Pat and Phil's granddaughter Noel. Here are a few shots from the day.
Among the many people who came to say goodbye to Phil were his daughters, their husbands and kids.
The evening ended. Beer bottles were collected. Plates and plastic forks thrown away and food put away in the fridge. We all hugged and said goodbye and pledged to see each other again one day. And then went our separate ways.
The following morning I stopped by to say goodbye to Scott's sister Lindsay and then Pat, his mother. Everything of value was said the day before, so we hugged, said aloha and I made my way to the airport. Cherokee 26Mike was sitting patiently on the ramp awaiting our arrival.
We sailed over the Alenuihaha Channel with the Big Island of Hawaii spreading itself before us as we approached.
Aloha Phil, say hi to Scott for me...Brian
"HCF this is American 162, do you have a Piper Cherokee two six Mike on this frequency?"
"Yes, yes I do"
"Any chance I could talk with him for a minute?" Asked the voice on a frequency every pilot throughout the Pacific would be hearing.
"Sure American 162, go ahead."
"Captain 26Mike you there?"
"Hey, Captain American. What's up man?" I responded
"Aloha Brian, hey, I'm really sorry about Phil's death. Give Scott's Mom a hug and say aloha to his Dad for me".
"Will do Curt... fly safe, thanks buddy, aloha, captain 26Mike out."
"Aloha to you my friend, fly safe...Captain American out."
The man on the other end of the radio is the captain of a Boeing 767 full of tourists heading back to Los Angelos. How he found me flying my little plane over the Pacific I don't know. Such is a man who was also a friend of Scott Bickel's and mine many years ago in the wild days of Kona Hawaii. Back then he was a private pilot with little more than a hundred hours of flight time and peach fuzz for a mustache . Now he is a senior captain with America's premier airline and holder of more than twenty thousand hours of flight time. And yet he can find a way to look down from his high perch flying a jumbo jet from Honolulu to Los Angeles to find me and pass on his aloha to our friend Scott's mom. You're a hell of a guy Curt.
I chose to fly myself from Kona to Kauai for the funeral of Phil Bickel, the father of my best friend in my earlier years. Phil was the father of Scott who picked me up hitchhiking on Alii Drive in 1975 and subsequently changed the entire course of my life. In 1983 I helped Scott finish building a trimaran on a river in Connecticut. His plan was to sail it back to Hawaii. Together we sailed throughout the Bahamas before I had to return to California. The following year he died on his boat in hurricane Hugo in the Virgin Islands. Scott was to be the best man at my wedding the following June. His father Phil stood in for his son and was the best man at my wedding in 1990. Phil died last week after undergoing surgery for stomach cancer.
Each year on the anniversary of Scott's death we would meet at Jamiesons restaurant to have dinner at sunset just above the ocean where Scott had spent so many good times and where we had buried him in 1989. The last time Leilani was home and joined us. Here you see us and Pat and Phil on their very last trip to the Big Island where they had lived so many happy years on the slopes of Hualalai.
I had an old friend of Pat and Phil's from Hilo flying with me to Lihue to attend Phil's funeral. After crossing the channel between Oahu and Kauai we dropped from the azure sky and landed safely on the runway at Lihue airport, two and a half hours and two hundred and forty miles of open ocean flying behind us. We tied 26Mike down and headed to the church where the service would be held.
I had the pleasure of being able to sit and talk with Pat for a bit before the service began. Sitting in a quite room off of the church I held her hand and we talked about Phil, and Scott and how life can sure throw you a crappy hand when you least expect it. There were laughs and tears as we looked back on my friend, his father and her love. Pat Bickel is an incredibly strong and gracious lady. Phil was a lucky man and he knew it.
The service was wonderful with family and friends passing on their anecdotes and tales of Phil's life. He was an Eagle Scout, a Naval officer, a father and husband and so very much more. I only got to know Phil after his son's death, but I came to regard him as a very special friend. He was an incredibly good man and I will miss him. His ever present smile and wry sense of humor made me feel at home when I was with him.
Like my Dad who I miss all the time, Phil will be missed dearly by his kids, grandkids, me and of course Pat.
After the service there was a reception at their oldest daughters house. The view of the mountains behind their house is stunning.
We ate and drank and told funny stories of Phil and Pat. I shared some tales of when Scott and I were wild young men living in an animal house called the Kalawai house with a bunch of other crazy Haoles in the mid 1970's. It was a very enjoyable evening, a celebration of lives.
Six years ago I had the privilege of photographing the wedding of Pat and Phil's granddaughter Noel. Here are a few shots from the day.
Photos of Phil were on display around their daughters home where the reception was held.
Daughter Cindy and her son
Among the many people who came to say goodbye to Phil were his daughters, their husbands and kids.
The evening ended. Beer bottles were collected. Plates and plastic forks thrown away and food put away in the fridge. We all hugged and said goodbye and pledged to see each other again one day. And then went our separate ways.
The following morning I stopped by to say goodbye to Scott's sister Lindsay and then Pat, his mother. Everything of value was said the day before, so we hugged, said aloha and I made my way to the airport. Cherokee 26Mike was sitting patiently on the ramp awaiting our arrival.
The evening rains that had been swirling off of Mount Waialeale all night had dissipated and bright blue skies were waiting for us to join them. As we approached Oahu, Honolulu Center felt it necessary to shuffle us way off to the south so we wouldn't get in their way as the noon rush hour of flights from the mainland and Asia merged on Oahu.
They finally allowed us to rejoin out preferred flight path back to Hawaii, passing just below and then over the islands of Lanai and Kahoolawe.
We sailed over the Alenuihaha Channel with the Big Island of Hawaii spreading itself before us as we approached.
I dropped my passenger off at Waimea airport and flew on to Kona. Landed, filled out the log book, tied down the plane and turned towards my car.
But before leaving the tarmac I looked back across the runway over the sea to the northwest and thought about Phil, Scott and most especially Pat. She has lost the two most important men in her life. One twenty three years ago, the other a week ago. I have no answers as I look out across the blue sea. I wish you the very best Pat. I only wish there were more that I could do to comfort you, but I cannot.
My friend Scott's parents, Pat and Phil, Married for 65 years.
Aloha Phil, say hi to Scott for me...Brian
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