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// 2: The Approach and Landing 
// Story: The Clock in the Mountains 
// by LilijoySkyseeker 
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The approach was difficult. Extremely so. As I descended from the clean higher air I entered full force into the updrafts and turbulence downwind of the cliffs. If the ship was shuddering before, it was positively humming with tension as I wrestled to keep the sails close to the hull.

My whole body was busy keeping the ship in line. A hoof upon the wheel, my wings upon the controls, and the other hoof and my mouth reeling in line. It may have been hectic, but I was grinning through the rope. This is what I lived for. The wind rushing through my mane, the turbulence positively shaking the ship, this was living.

My goal was to end up right in the lee of the cliff where I saw the glint. The cliff ran north to south and if I got right up next to it, I should be shielded from the worst of the wind. The glint had been on the southern tip right on the highest portion. I suspected that I would be blasted by the wind once I got down there on wing proper. But thoughts of what I would do later were torn from my mind as the first tack demanded my full attention.

I loosened up the mainsail a few hoofs and mouths of line, just enough to feel the ship start to heel to windward and then I dove onto the wheel, spinning it as fast as I could to port, riding the momentum as It turned into the wind, the ship hestated, wanting to get stuck in irons, but I quickly yanked a control lever with my wings and the ship eased it way into a port tack. The boom whisked its way overhead as the ship settled onto its new heading, the tension returning with a shudder as I straightened the wheel and brought the sails back into form.

I grinned, one tack done, and, I surveyed the landscape ahead, maybe four or so left. With a moment of peace now obtained I freed a wing to grab the telescope once again. I knew I wouldn't be able to spot the glint again, the angle of the light wasn’t right, but I hoped to spot something else out there. I panned my view across the cliffs, my eye struggling to focus as the vibration of the ship shook the telescope through me. I spent a good thirty seconds searching, trying to spot anything else in that area that stood out, and it wasn’t until I was about to drop the telescope when something caught my eye. It wasn’t the saphire blue of the supposed stained glass from earlier, but I did see a portion of stone that was a far more matte and consistent stretch than any I had seen before. It really only stood out because of its regularity against the clutter of the rocks and gravel of the cliffs.

I frowned again. What was that? A weird shade of paint? I had no clue. Honestly as I thought more and more about what could be out there, I think I may have jumped to conclusions thinking this was a pony in distress. With that reconsideration, a lot of the urgency left my mind and for a moment I considered turning back to my course to the north, my sense of duty warring with my curiosity, but eventually the curiosity won out. I knew that day was going to be clear for a solid while. The storm last night, having almost guaranteed the lull of today was going to last. Or at least that's what I told myself, really, I was just curious. Curiosity killed the pegasus and all that.

With this set in my mind I continued my approach to the cliffs 


The next three tacks went well, with only curiocity driving me now instead of the urgency of an emergency I took my time enjoying the ride through the winds. The skill involved keeping the grin on my face. I was planning to make my approach after the third tack, but the winds actually drifted north as I got into the lee of the cliffs so I was able to cut the last one out as I made a direct line towards the glint and weird stone’s location. 

As the last few hundred lengths reeled themselves in, I locked the controls, then hopped to my hooves to start furling the mainsail as I didn’t need or want the extra speed as I got close. I quickly cranked the furler wrapping the sail around the boom and then tightened it up with a few straps before darting back to the controls, the ship now sailing on jib and mizzen alone.

The cliff in question now loomed high, blocking the sun and the brunt of the wind. With a twitch of my feathers I felt the wind ahead shifting even further north, the edge of the cliff tugging in the current to flow right along the surface. I adjusted the wheel to follow, the ship easing its way alongside the cliff.

Now comes the trickiest part. Landing the ship while within eight lengths of the rocks. I squinted and bit my lip as I juggled my attention between the sharp rocks off the starboard side and the sails above me. I brought the bow around as close into the wind as I dared, the sails luffing in irritation above me as their clean air was denied. The ship eased to a halt, for a moment almost sitting stationary alongside the cliffs, my tension building.Then with a slight groan it began to slide backwards with the wind and I yanked a level on the panel. With a loud twang the starboard anchor shot out at an angle towards the cliff, trailing line behind. It soared the last few lengths to the cliff and then with a loud clatter hooked around one of the large protruding rocks. I then shoved that same lever forward and with a clunk, the anchor lock activated and the line jerked to a stop. 

The ship continued to drift backwards, my hooves busy on the controls governing the forward control vanes, keeping the ship straight as it backed. I closely watched the anchor line as the slack was taken up by the ship's motion, until with a light thrum, it stretched taught. The rock it was attached to shifted, a few pebbles bouncing down the cliff, but it held steady. And now with a solid anchor, the ship changed directions and swung starboard towards the flat cliff. A few moments later, now barely moving, the docking bumpers kissed the sheer rock wall and the ship finally came to a halt.

I sighed, my whole body sagging for a moment, the stress of the landing bleeding out of my hooves and into the deck, before a grin slipped back onto my face as I straightened, and started working to fully secure the ship to the cliff. This truly was what I lived for, pure skill, high stress, and a beautiful view, I added ruefully as I glanced over the side, the cliffs falling away below me.

My coat was positively itching to go explore the mystery further along the cliff, but I had business to attend to first. I furled and stowed the rest of the sails, leaving only a batten of the mizzen sail in the aft still aloft acting like an extra large air rudder to keep the ship in line with the wind and alongside the cliff. I also flew a few more smaller anchors and lines across, wrapping them around more sturdy rocks and the occasional larger tree. Now back to the ship I stowed a few more odds and ends, zeroed the controls and locked them tight. I gave everything one last once over, then grabbing my emergency ashore saddlebags just in case there was somepony after all, I leapt from the stern of the ship soaring towards the mystery of the mountains, an even wider grin plastered across my face.