Day One – Gliders.
The rigging of planes, trains, or automobiles is always a challenge for the crew. Any vibration, and the shots are useless. We head to the airstrip two hours before the challengers, but still find ourselves rushing to get all the cockpit cams installed in time.

I had dinner with Karl and April last night, yet still don’t have a true sense of how scared they are of flying. Until we walk out to the glider field that is. With camera crews pressing in and a crowd gathered, they are oblivious to everything but the slender white plane we are walking towards. Karl is silent. April begins to ask a million questions. Both are shaking.

We ask the pilots to help both Karl and April take control of the plane during their first flight in the trainer gliders. I know it will take some serious coaxing, and am thrilled when the radio crackles and Karl has the stick in his hand. April goes next, and also flies the bird. Back on the ground, both seem ecstatic and exhausted.

After a quick lunch (some form of meat on a bun for the 30th day in a row) we are in the vans and headed towards Peterborough. With traffic at a standstill on the QEW – and 6 hours of bumper to bumper facing us – I pull out my wallet and tell the driver to take us straight to the 407 (toll road). At this point, a good night’s rest is invaluable!

Day Two – Ultra Lights.
Had a fantastic run in Peterborough last night. Haven’t been here since University, when our crew raced in the Head-of-the-Trent regatta. All I remember from that visit was beer and crowded motel rooms. Now I discover a lovely city; huge oak and maple trees line streets of historic brick homes.

The camera crew did not have as much luck as we did yesterday, staying on the clogged 401 and arriving at near midnight. They still manage to get up before the sun and rig cameras onto the ultra-lights we will be flying.

Bill Leishman – of Fly Away Home fame – will be joining us to carry a third camera in the sky. At 7 a.m. his easily recognizable craft hums over the forest and touches down. He has flown here from his nearby home. Having both worked extensively in the Arctic and outdoors, we have plenty of common friends, and spend a few minutes laughing and recounting tales.

The ultralights themselves are impressive machine; I kinda' wish I had one. The lift they generate upon take-off is amazing. Tucked in behind the driver I listen for the others on the radio. Or look over my knee and spot their craft just off the wing. It really feels like we are on a lawn mower with wings.

Karl seemed a bit more comfortable than April with the gliders, but today is a different story. Now he wants to get down right away, and makes it clear over the radio. Back on the ground I wonder if he was joking – as he smiles and waves – but when I see him flop down on the grass beside the runway, and hold his head, I know how tough the experience was for him.

We chat afterwards, and it is clear he doubts he will ever get over this fear. It just feels too deeply ingrained.

Day Three – Sky Diving.
Everyone on the crew knows this is it. Skydiving will make or break the experience for Karl and April. And they have no idea it is coming.

They drive into the parking lot with their heads down, eyes closed, and get out of the van with a huge skydiving sign over their shoulder (still hidden from their view). As I start to explain their mission – to board a waiting plane, climb to 13,500 feet, and jump out – Karl goes white and April starts to cry ‘No, no, no.’ I reach to hold April up, and take Karl’s hand. They are good friends now, and I know they must feel sick.

It is clear from both their faces that they are still uncertain. They could bail out, walk away from the set and be done with it. I don’t want them to. But I can’t force them to jump either. After about 10 minutes of tears and emotion, April seems to decide that she will do it. Karl though is having major doubts.

‘How will this help me at all?’ he asks. “I can’t see it. I’ll still be scared of flying after.’

“I know you hate me know,’ I begin, ‘but you’ll hate me even more if you don’t do this. And you’ll feel disappointed in yourself. It will never get easier than right now. If you walk away, and then try again years from now, it will seem even harder.’

Eventually we all get on the plane – and the long climb begins. If you have ever sky-dived before, you know everything happens fast. The plane levels out, the green light by the jump door goes on, and then a ruckus of “Go, go, GO!” begins. Everyone shuffles forwards, and leaps.

The most extraordinary and poignant moment of the whole season for me occurs on the ground minutes later. Karl lands minutes after me, with a smile from ear to ear. “I want to go again!’ are his first words. The smile on his face lasts all day, and is as deep and true and relaxed as I have seen during our five days together.

The late afternoon flight on the Harvard aircraft is a celebration of everything we’ve achieved in 72 short hours.