Excerpts
It was a clear, blustery day in February 1981. Buck was working for Crosby Wright ,my grading and concrete contractor. We were preparing the foundation of my home, one of the first I built more than two decades ago.
At the time I had recently learned to fly and had soloed my first airplane a few days earlier. I was telling Crosby about my latest adventure and he just sat there and listened quietly as recounted the details of my recent flight. When I paused, quite satisfied that I had shared something interesting and unusual, he looked at me and said in a quiet tone, "Get Buck to tell you about his airplane story."
The next day we continued to grade and shape the foundation of the structure and at noon when we broke for lunch I sat down beside Buck to eat. After finishing my sandwich, I relaxed for a moment before getting back to the task at hand. I asked Buck if he had ever flown an airplane.
"No sir, and ain't going to either," he said smiling. "But I was almost killed by one," he added.
"How was that?" I asked.
"One night four jet airplanes crashed into my house and burned it down," he continued. " I came home the next morning and a jet engine was laying where my bedroom was."
At the time I had recently learned to fly and had soloed my first airplane a few days earlier. I was telling Crosby about my latest adventure and he just sat there and listened quietly as recounted the details of my recent flight. When I paused, quite satisfied that I had shared something interesting and unusual, he looked at me and said in a quiet tone, "Get Buck to tell you about his airplane story."
The next day we continued to grade and shape the foundation of the structure and at noon when we broke for lunch I sat down beside Buck to eat. After finishing my sandwich, I relaxed for a moment before getting back to the task at hand. I asked Buck if he had ever flown an airplane.
"No sir, and ain't going to either," he said smiling. "But I was almost killed by one," he added.
"How was that?" I asked.
"One night four jet airplanes crashed into my house and burned it down," he continued. " I came home the next morning and a jet engine was laying where my bedroom was."
Almost a mile below Yellowstone Lake crawled beneath my wings as I tried to find the pass the would lead me through the final maze of the Rocky Mountains. I continued to climb and look for it when finally I spotted the narrow gap in the snow-capped 12000-foot peaks to the east.
Whitecaps on the waves below hinted at the winds and turbulence I would have to ride for the next forty miles through this granite funnel. Minutes later, after entering the confines of the Sylvan Pass, I kept my engine speed up to be ready for whatever Mother Nature might throw at me. I had chosen this route over the longer one to the north fearing the strong crosswinds over the mountains rather than the gusting tailwind that I was beginning to feel now. I was beginning to question my choice.
Riding this river of air, I steered for the middle of the stream to avoid the rotors and turbulence of
both sides of the narrow valley. The first hint of trouble was a wing abruptly dropping, but I reduced power and leveled out. Then the bottom fell out and the small plane dropped like an elevator. I increased power and watched my airspeed continue to fall. The Rotax engine was wide open as I clawed for altitude at 11,000 feet, with the bottom just a couple thousand feet below and stone walls getting closer on both sides.
The old guys at the last said it would be a good day to fly the pass, now I understood why they were smiling when they said it.
Whitecaps on the waves below hinted at the winds and turbulence I would have to ride for the next forty miles through this granite funnel. Minutes later, after entering the confines of the Sylvan Pass, I kept my engine speed up to be ready for whatever Mother Nature might throw at me. I had chosen this route over the longer one to the north fearing the strong crosswinds over the mountains rather than the gusting tailwind that I was beginning to feel now. I was beginning to question my choice.
Riding this river of air, I steered for the middle of the stream to avoid the rotors and turbulence of
both sides of the narrow valley. The first hint of trouble was a wing abruptly dropping, but I reduced power and leveled out. Then the bottom fell out and the small plane dropped like an elevator. I increased power and watched my airspeed continue to fall. The Rotax engine was wide open as I clawed for altitude at 11,000 feet, with the bottom just a couple thousand feet below and stone walls getting closer on both sides.
The old guys at the last said it would be a good day to fly the pass, now I understood why they were smiling when they said it.