Sven, the suicide helicopter pilot, came to the top of the canyon and entered the vast world of white. Facing west, he flew just above the glacier coverage that extended well beyond the horizon as it gradually climbed in elevation. Sven halted his forward motion and looked for a site to land his rig. Slowly descending, he lightly placed his landing skis on the snow and backed off the power to see if the mile thick ice would hold up the multi-ton load. Sinking in inches and stopping, Sven killed the power, and it was time to exit. As the 4 Americans got out, camera shutters were clicking relentlessly. Looking east, the Atlantic Ocean was visible 5,000′ below, however the village that they flew out of was not. That ice cap was so steep, 1 could not look over and see the edge. This was a cool experience quite literally. Giving the 4 some 15 minutes to explore their surroundings, Sven signaled the adventurers to get back in and took off. He flew right off that rolling edge, exposing the open ground where Mister Mxyzptlk and the soccer playing residents were located far below. He then flew out over the ocean as he was rapidly losing altitude. Letting the hour meter go past 1 hour, he returned to the heliport and unloaded his totally impressed cargo. Filling up with fuel and putting on a group of 4 Germans, Sven was about to embark on a 5-hour, $12,000 trip to take the Krauts on a whale watching trip. He felt sorry for the Americans and put some of their flight time on the German bill. That’s what you get for starting 2 wars. Back at the lunch table, enjoying more royal food, the group separated and would meet tomorrow morning on their flight back to Reykjavik. With a few hours to tour the town and watch some more of the round the clock soccer, Mike headed back for his last supper. At the bottom of hotel hill was a taxi waiting for him. Inside was the wife of the engineer who said, “I thought you might need a lift; that hill is ridiculous.” Friends are forever! 

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