* * * * * Leaving the invisible waterspout and its danger well behind me, I turn the helicopter back to the correct magnetic heading; hoping my detour hasn’t gotten me too far off course. In time my pounding heart settles down to a more reasonable rate. Gradually the monotony of droning over empty, flat water into an empty, flat sky makes the minutes drag by, while the one-to-one vibration of the main rotor blade gently rocks me back and forth. Ultimately another tune pops into my grey matter, and I start humming along: “California Dreamin’” by The Mommas & The Papas. Jesus, I miss California, dear reader, and the soft, safe life I had out there before taking this risky job. After what seems ages, I become aware of a slight irregularity on the ...