You come to a stop, perched at the end of a strip in a remote wilderness, and the dust settles. You taxi carefully to the edge to position the airplane out of the way, so that the next pilot approaching has plenty of room to land. You step out onto the scrub and close the door behind you. The quiet descends.
There may not be another airplane coming, honestly. And it’s all fine as long as you’re fine, and all goes well. And what if the flight goes perfectly, but you or one of your group suffers a cardiac event while you’re setting up camp? It feels like an outside possibility—until it happens to someone you care about, and you’re many rugged miles from medical help.
