Chuck's Positivity Palace | Previous Challenge Entry

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TITLE: Chuck's Positivity Palace | Previous Challenge Entry
By Noel Mitaxa
09/15/22
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Chuck could see positives in everything – as if he could somehow pull the sun out from behind clouds. If he couldn’t see the positives at first, he’d search them out; and spread his discoveries to his wider world.

He never let disagreements get to him; always so encouraging that I wondered if a future dictionary might replace the word “positive” with his photo.

What was his secret? He had a very strong faith, but he often talked about his Positivity Palace, a special place high in the mountains, beside a lake that he assured me was so wide that planes fitted with pontoons could land and lift off without any risk at all. Here he could get away and recharge his emotional and spiritual batteries.

One day, when Chuck showed me a photo of it, I knew it would never qualify for a photo shoot for the Architectural Digest. True, the lake was scenic enough, but this palace was just a single room log cabin with a stone chimney at one end, a window on each side wall, and a door in the wall opposite the chimney.

But then he eyeballed me. “Hey Jake, why don’t you come there with me for a week? The lake is full of fish, and the forest is a hunter’s paradise. We could let the pressures roll off as we hunt or fish, take a few books to read by the fire, pray together and think through a few goals and how to reach them.

“There’s no internet; no neighbours; the only noise we’ll hear is the noise we make – apart from a few animal sounds and bird calls - and the quiet rumble of planes soaring way overhead. How about it? We could even suffer from lack of stress!”

I bit the bullet. “Yeah, why not?” I replied. A reply that introduced me to levels of stress I’d never encountered before, but Chuck had a solution for every problem I raised as we prepared for my big adventure and his regular routine. He won me over completely. Or was I too proud or stupid to admit to my fears?

He guided me through what clothing and equipment I’d need, and the day eventually but swiftly arrived for our departure – via a single-engine pontoon plane moored at a jetty in a quiet corner of the harbour.

Chuck showed the pilot our destination on his map, so we loaded our gear, cast off and strapped ourselves in.

The engine gave a couple of chuffs before bursting into life with a
roar, as we pulled away from the jetty and headed into the wind for take-off.

Struggling at full throttle, we finally leapt skyward as we cleared the deadweight of the sea. In no time we had left the city behind, to soar over the forested ranges below, pitching and rising through the updrafts of peaks and the stillness of valleys between them.

As we descended to the lake, it rose quickly to meet us, before the pilot lifted the nose and shut power just above the surface, so we could settle and taxi across to Chuck’s cabin.

We quickly unloaded and told the pilot to come back a week later.

And what a week it was in that cabin and its surrounds – all as Chuck had promised. We talked and prayed into the small hours, yet still had enough energy to pack in so much fishing and hunting that by the time the plane returned, the cabin was shaded by stacks of fish and packed meat and animal skins.

We packed the plane’s cargo area, but Chuck was determined not to leave anything behind. He began tying strings of fish onto the wings and the pontoon and struts – much to the pilot’s protest, “We’ll never lift off with all that stuff!”

“Last year, I lifted off with more stuff packed onto a smaller plane,” countered Chuck, barely pausing for breath.

By the time he had finished, the plane was encrusted with meat,
fish, and animal skins, but we boarded, turned on power and faced the wind at full throttle. We were still barely above walking pace halfway across; but with barely feet to spare, we lifted off.

You guessed it. A tall tree snagged a fish pack, and down we went, with meat, fish, furs, and bits of plane everywhere. As I came to, I asked Chuck, “Where are we?”

He replied with a smile, “About twice as far as I got last year!”

Author's note. This story is not true, but it's been fun to slap together

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